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Hugh O'Nell's War 



WITH 



Queen Elizabeth, 

X XV X CJ XT. 

NATIONAL EFFUSIONS 



AND 



Miscellaneous Poems. 



BY 



P. C. T. BREEN 







BO lu 



CHICAGO : 

Clark & Edwards, Publishers, 

1882. 



Entered According to Act of C4ngress in the Year 1881, 

[ By P. C. T. BEEEN, 
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington. 



ALL BIGHTS RESERVED, 



IHTRODUCTIOH. 



In stepping forth from the calm surroundings of 
modest retirement, into the expansive dominion of liter- 
ature, I find myself accompanied with the peaceful re- 
flections of an unassuming mind, thirsting not for the 
honor and glory of fame, but with an undying love of 
nationality; that the fire of my humble genius may add 
to the brilliancy of the unextinguished lamp of patriot- 
ism, which ever burns within the sublimity of holy as- 
pirations of freedom — as immortal beacon lights of 
victory, leading to glory the undaunted sons of heroic 
sires who were never destined to fill a bondsman's grave. 

In bringing before my readers the illustrious chief- 
tain of the house of the Hi Nials — the valiant Hugh 
O'Neill, I have attempted, though feebly, to portray the 
master genius of that military hero, as he stood in proud 
defiance on the lofty pinnacle of fame, sweeping into ob- 
livion, the tried, trained generals, of the British army 
with the invincible prowess of his herculean arm, as he 
stood forth in the arena of conflict, inspiring his soldiers 
with heroic deeds of action, that his own beloved Erin, 
might be disenthralled from the polluted influences of a 
tyrannical government, which has always tried to crush 
beneath the force of its steeled barbarity, a race, too 
proud, too honorable, too brave to be contemned. The 
glory of his invincibility shall live forever in the monu- 
mental recollections of his fame, and inspire the minds 
of all untainted with the pusillani^nity of slave-born 
proclivities, to die in the struggle of freedom's holy 
cause, before the shackles of serfdom should plow deep 
into the limbs of a brave and glorious people. 

The spirit of modest song, which breathes through 
the Irish National Effusions, however humble, instills a 
love nationalistic suavity within the soul which throbs 
with the pulse of freedom. When the recollections of 
homes sweet early scenes spread themselves before the 
minds eye, with all those endearing charms which 



INTRODUCTION. 

nature, with unstinted lavishness bestows upon them, is 
it a matter of surprise, that a heart estranged from those 
associations should awaken from the soUtude of its ne- 
glected love, when touched by the fire, not perhaps, so 
much of poetic genius, as the subject matter itself, bring- 
ing its realized sublimity of sweetness into the very soul 
from which it was so long estranged. If this should be 
the case, and I could feel that my humble v^itings were 
productive of national aspirations of freedom, then the 
hours of sweet communion with the muse, which filled 
my soul with song, should ever cast their pleasing re- 
collections around me, with a peaceful assurance of de- 
light, as the ^wintry blasts of life chill my brow with 
decaying old age; for 

Next to God's glory alone. 
Our country should always be given 
The dearest affections we own. 
The Miscellaneous Poetry, which is largely made up 
of incidents of local surroundings, which more or less 
attracted my attention, has a peculiar interest for my- 
self, through the association of friendly relationship 
which gave them birth in my humble stanzas. The 
mind of the poet, though holding secret converse with 
the muse, and wrapt up in the sweetness of her inspiration 
still finds itself, courted by those passing events, which, 
in social intercourse, flow down the tide of life together 
into the unfathomed gulf of eternity; and though the 
subjects may be uninteresting to some, yet those ties of 
friendship, which knit together the peaceful remem- 
brance of other days in the poet's mind, will, I hope, 
awaken the heart of the gentle reader to a thoughtful 
reflection of forgiveness, and ascribe the fault, if such it 
be, to the affections, which social companionship nursed 
in the soul of 

P. C T. Breen. 



DULCE ET DECORUM EST 
PRO PATRIA MORI. 



TO THE 

HONOEABLE 
CHARLES STEWART PARNELL, 

The illustrious Irish Nationalist, 

The eminent statesman, 

Whose name and fame 

Shall ever claim 

Immortal honor and renown 

Far brighter gems than ever yet 

Bedecked a monarch's crown 

This little book as an 

Echo of Ireland's 

National love 

for thee 

Is respect- 

fully 
Dedicated. 



INDEX. 



PAGE. 

Hugh O'NeiU's War with EUzabeth ; 

Erin's Soul of Freedom 69 

Coercion Laws in Ireland YO 

Chicago's Welcome to Parnell 73 

Though Shadowed the Glories 75 

The Irish Volunteers 76 

Shall the Hopes of Erin, &c 78 

The Heroines of Limerick 79 

The Land I Love So Well. 81 

If Ireland Would be Free 84 

The Meeting of the Clans 85 

Why Ireland should be Free 87 

My Friends Across the Sea 89 

To the Irish-American Societies 92 

Arise for Freedom's Cause 94 

Lord Castlereagh . 96 

Lines Dedicated to the Memory of John O'Mahoney 97 

The Siege of Dunboy 99 

The Light of England's Glory 's Fled 103 

Lines Dedicated to the Hibernian Rifles of Chicago, A. O. H . ... 105 

The Irish Patriot's Address 107 

The Massacre of Wexford 112 

A Dialogue between Cromwell and the British Parliament on the 

Sack of Drogheda 1 !5 

Mother Erin Speaks 120 

The Bloody Crown of England 122 

Emmett 124 

Sad! Sad was the Day 126 

What are Ireland's Prospects Now 128 

Lines Written on the occasion of the Incarceration of the Hon. 

C. S. Pamell 131 



My Native Land 133 

The Home of My Youth 136 

Ireland 138' 

Introduction to Poughlue Eyon 141 

Poughlue Eyon 147 

Washington's Tomb 202 

Helen's Grave 203 

The Republic of the West 205 

I fear I shaU Die an Old Maid 207 

Dingle Bay 208 

To My Wife on Her Thirtieth Birthday 209 

The Eccentricities of David Reidy 210 

To Miss Molhe V. Kain 211 

My Mother's Grave I Mourning Sought 213 

On the Death of Bishop Foley 214 

The Old Bachelors 215 

All Fool's Day 216 

Lines Written at the request of one of the Members of the St. 

Cecihan Musical Society 218 

To J. D. SuUivan 219 

No Passions Should Arise 220 

On the Death of Mrs. Kate Kain Breen 231 

Marshal Benner 223 

To a Friend, (An Acrostic) 224 

To M. W. Ryan, Esq 225 

The Flag of the Union 226 

To the Memory of EUen Elizabeth Breen 228 

Who Else Could I Love 230 

A Mother's Elegy 231 

Decoration Day 232 

To a Friend 234 

The Friends of My Youth 235 

Lines Written Impromptu after Reading a Lady's Album 237 

The Maiden's First Whisperings of Love 239 



HUGH O'HEILUS WAR 

WITH 

ELIZABETH, 



HUGH O'NEILL. 



Hugh O'Neill, the illustrious chieftain of the 
House of the Hy Nialls, who governed over 
Ireland as Monarchs for a period of about seven 
hundred years, accepted from Elizabeth the 
title of the Earl of Tyrone in order to avoid the 
suspicion of the English during his occasional 
visits to England. Though always appearing 
to act in the interests of the Queen, he studied 
every advantage which afforded him an oppor- 
tunity of increasing his own knowledge, until 



10 Hugh O'Neill's War. 

he had thoroughly acquamted himself with their 
tactics. By this means he became an accom- 
plished tactician, . 

He organized an army of six thousand men 
in his own province and secretly instructed 
them in the use of arms, uniting at the same 
time the discipline of both countries in the 
course of their experience. The Irish were 
complaining of his inactivity in consequence of 
his not joining immediately the standard of re- 
volt raised by O'Donnell, who had made his 
escape from imprisonment in Dublin Castle 
with two other northern princes. But as soon 
as an opportunity favored his designs, he re- 
nounced the title of Tyrone (A. D. 1595), and 
declared war against the Queen, in conjunction 
with the Maguires, McMahons, Maginissis, Mc- 
Donnels, and other illustrious chieftains who 
espoused the cause of poor bleeding Ireland. 

Hugh O'Neill became their Commander-in- 
Chief and honored the cause with immortal 
renown. 



HUGH O'NEILL'S WAR 

WITH 

ELIZABETH. 



No more shall the title of Earl disorrace 
The ancient renown of O'Neill's gallant race. 
The mighty Tyrone has assumed his own name, 
No false colors shadow the light of his fame ; 
In his own native land, like Hector of yore, 
The foeman's proud standard of battle he bore ; 
The might of his valor triumphantly rose 
And chilled in his presence the hearts of his foes. 
The chieftains of Erin beheld with delight 
The great Hugh preparing his men for the fight. 
The free loving Bess, like her amorous sire. 
Had kindled the war flame with wanton desire ; 
Since the sad invasion of England began 
No greater resistance was made to a man. 
The Irish, like crested Acheans, were seen 
Brave, calm and determined, all glit'ring with 
sheen. 



12 Hugh O'Neill's Wae. 

The tyrantess vow'd from her bloody stamed 

throne 
She'd humble the pride of the mighty Tyrone, 
And leave not one spark of the old faith to burn — 
The ashes of papists she'd place in one urn. 
With fierceness of action she issued commands 
Eecalling her old troops from the Netherlands, 
To Norris* the command of th' armies she gave 
To render old Erin a vast purple grave. 
With ten thousand men in the land of the Geal 
He swore he would capture the rebel O'Neill ; 
Yet, soon as he landed he lost the intent, 
A white flag with tidings to the chief he sent, 
Kequesting a truce from the brave gallant Hugh 
To try what a peaceful commission could do : 
The truce was agreed on, yet peace stood afar, 
The wild echoes answered the trumpets of war. 
The armies on both sides nursed silence as dread 
As the solemnness keeping the shades o' the dead. 
The deputy, Kussel, with his army corps 
When marching for Armagh unceasingly swore. 
The clans of the Irish he'd sweep like a blast 

* Sir John Norris. former Gov 
Commander of the Enj,'lisli Army in the low countries, against the 
King of Spain, was considered one of the best commanders m Her 
Majesty's service. 



Hugh O'Neill's War. 13 

As Boreas splinters the lofty main mast. 
The voice of bravado had scarce died away 
When the hosts of Erin in martial array 
Were seen in the distance, with banners of 

green, 
Ignoring the power of the 'Sassanaugh Queen.' 
On the plains of Kilona the battle began — 
Jove-like, majestic, the O'Neill leads the van ; 
His voice like a trumpet was heard o'er the 

plain — 
Charge ! Charge on the Saxons ; your glories 

maintain. 
As a fierce mountain flood o'ercharging its 

banks 
The Irish rush down on their enemy's ranks — 
The invading forces, v/ith tempest-like rage. 
Imbued with destruction, as fiercely engage. 
The dark, frowning Avar-clouds of terror are 

there. 
Like storms, growing fiercer in the midnight 

air. 

Contending with dark, rolling flames rushing 

high 
From the lap of destruction, where crashing 

walls lie. 



14 Hugh O'Neill's War. 

The contending armies thus fiercely contend, 
The sabre and pike with their dread issues bend, 
The Irish 'repressible appeared in war, 
Whilst clanking of weapons resounded afar, 
The dauntless O'Neill in the vanguard is seen, 
With eyes flashing light like his broad sabre's 

sheen ; 
His brow looks as fierce as the great moun- 
tain god,* 
Depicted as shaking the earth with his nod, 
O'Cahon, O'Hanlon and fearless Maguire, 
And other brave chieftains their soldiers inpsire 
With terrific cheers for their loved native shore 
Throuofh the British ranks with dread ven- 

geance they tore. 
The cohorts of the stranger, like broken reeds, 

yield, 
O'erpowered by the Irish, they fly from the 

field. 
Their dying and dead overshadow the plain, — 
With terrors arising from so many slain, t 
From Ulster, the deputy made his retreat, 
Dejected with sorrow at such a defeat. 

^Olympian Jove. 

tThe English were compelled to retreat to Newiy, after leaving 
six hundred men dead on the field. O'Neill lost about two hmidred 
men on that occasion. 



HuaH O'Neill's War. 15 

He J gave up his soldiers to Sir John's com- 
mand, 
Too fearful of meeting the chiefs of the land. 
The banner of Ulster waved high 'bove the 

trees, 
Extending its soft silken folds to the breeze ; 
The brave sons of Erin had dared to unfold 
That emblem of freedom and glory of old — 
That freedom so holy, so precious, divine. 
So long lost to Erin — yet, Erin 'twas thine. — 
To restore their lost rights, and wipe out the 

stain 
Of England's pollution, the chiefs met again. 
Lord Deputy Eussel's defeat cheered them on. 
With bright hopes, increasing the glories they 

won. 
They marched to Cluoin Tiburuid with speed 

like the roe. 
To slacken the pace of the retreating foe. 
Where a small winding stream there indents 

the plain 
O'Neill raised his standard with proud lofty 

mien ; 
Then, calling around him the chiefs of his race, 
With joyful expressions of hope on his face, 

tA great deal of jealousy having existed between Sir John Nor- 
ris and the Lord Deputy, about the command of the armies, a dis- 
union existed between these gentlemen until the latters Ul success in 
his first encounter with O'Neill, when he gave up his command to 
Norris, and returned to Dublin in disgust. 



16 Hugh O'Neill's War. 

He pointed his sword where the proud Saxons 
stood 

Then spoke he: '*that stream shall run red 
with their blood ; 

Oar Faith they have trampled, our virtue 
reviled, '^ 

The graves of our fathers' for years they've de- 
filed, 

Our wives, mothers, sisters the old and the 
young 

They've shot without mercy — they've shame- 
fully hung. 

Prepare then to meet them ; deal death to the 
foe; 

Make England's base hirelings remember the 
woe; 

They've heap'd over Erin with wanton delight, 

Enofullino: her beauties in horrors' black nio^ht." 

The dread echoes answered the shouts of his 
men 

And bore them with terror through mountain 
and glen, 

Like the pealing thunder's vibrations in air 

When dark clouds are riven with tempests' 
despair, 

And strong men like aspen leaves tremble and 
pale, 



Hugh O'Neill's Wae. 17 

Thus England's hosts 'waited the Sons of the 

Geal. 
General Norris o'ercharg'd with their spleen, 
Eode frantic with fury exhorting his men 
To strike down the papists with merciless hands, 
And leave not one rebel to cumber the lands. 
With fierceness, like tigers awaiting their prey, 
They stand for a moment in martial array. 
Impatient with vengeance growing dark on each 

face — 
Then head long they rushed to wipe out the old 

race. 
The soldiers of Erin with proud defiance. 
Met their fierce shock with that calm self-re- 
liance. 
Which breathed the spirit of God's strength 

alone. 
With grand human efforts to die for their own. 
The contest grew dreadful, the stream flow'd 

with blood. 
And delug'd its banks with its impurpled flood ; 
The chieftains engaged in the battle with might, 
Kesolving to conquer or die in the fight. 



18 Hugh O'Neill's War. 

A brave British officer* fought well that day, 
Like Ajax. he felled all obstructing his way, 
Until he encounter'd O'Neill in the van. 
Inspiring' with valorous deeds his brave clan, 
A dark frown of vengeance, with spectre-like 

dread, 
Overshadow'ng the graves of the mold'ring 

dead 
Swept over the brow of the Britain so bold, 
Who dared to encounter the Ked Hand of old. 
The god-like O'Neill with his ponderous lance 
Poised high in the air toward his foe did ad- 
vance ; 
The ground seem to shake with the force they 

display'd, 
When a contest of strength in the action was 

made. 
The armies stood still as if death's shadow'ng 

spear, 
Benumb'd the existence of each man with fear ; 
The sight of their Chieftains in combat en- 

gag'd, 
Filled 'em with awe as if the gods battle wag'd. 

* Segrave, an officer in tlie army of Norris, fought his way to 
where O'Neill was, and encountered that Chieftain in single combat. 



Hugh O'Neill's Wae. • 19 

SeoTave with the streno-th of a tio-er beo-an 
To hurdle his spears at the great Irishman, 
Who warded them off as his own sped away, 
Commission'd with might the bokl sokher to 

slay. 
Two lances were shattered by each chieftain 

brave, 
But yet, no cessation would either dare crave — 
Then clenching their broad swords with eyes 

flashing fire. 
They renew'd the contest with dreadful desire. 
O'Neill madie a thrust at the breast of his foe, 
But Segrave, as valiant, parried the blow. 
Then sprang like a wild beast, with one fearful 

yell 
To cut down the papist and send him to hell ; 
His sword in a moment descended through air, 
With fury denoting the wrath of despair ; 
It rang on the steel of the chief of Tyrone, 
With a harmless clano- breathino- veno-eance 

alone. • 
The hero of Ulster with grave calmness said 
Thy life-blood this day shall yet flow with the 

dead ; 



20 Hugh O'Neill's War. 

The dark, grim shades of Mors, thy manes shall 

hide, 
My broad sword shall hmiible the freebooters' 

pride — 
Like a tremendous oak, whose ponderous limbs 
Betoken the strength of its earth clasping 

stems 
Crush'd down by the shock of electric fire, 
Thus Segrave fell clothed in bloody attire. 
Loud shouts of triumph from O'Neill's gallant 

band, 
Awakened the echoes of fame in the land ; 
The ranks of their foes grew disordered and 

fled. 
Leaving behind them their dying and dead.* 
Monaghan surrendered, on the following day 
To the Clans of Ulster in martial array. 
The force of their pow'r overshadow'd the 

throne, 
Like the mystic writing Belshazzar had known. 
Elizabeth, fearing O'Neill's sweeping pow'r, 



* The English lost seven hundred men in that dreadful battle- 
field ; the Irish not one-thu'd that number. On the following day, 
the garrison at Monaghan surrendered to O'Neill ; he allowed them 
to march out with the honors of war. 



Hugh O'Neill's Wae. 21 

(Though wishing she had Iiim enclosed in the 

tow'r), 
Declared she would pardon him if he'd lay down 
His claymore and stand in defence of her crown. 
The brave gallant chief with a proud haughty 

smile, 
Thus answered the foe of his dear native isle : 
My sword in its scabbard shall never be seen, 
'Till freedom is pledged to old Erin the Green. 
The pow'r of " Queen Bess " I shall ever defy, 
Go tell her. Sir Edward,* I fear not to die ; 
Her pardon I seek not, no favors I crave, 
Instruct the usurper — O'Neill 's not a slave. 
The bold fearless tone of the chieftain's demand. 
Inspired the proud princes all over the land 
'To unsheath their swords, and to battle with 

pride 
Eor freedom for Erin, with Hugh by their side. 
The chieftains of Munster threw off their dis- 
guise. 
The famed clans of Connaught extoled to the 
skies 



* Sir Edward Moor was instructed to offer the Queen's pardon 
fto O'Neill in 1596, if lie would lay down his arms, bur that un- 
«daunted hero refused to accept her terms of peace, deeming her a 
.usurper of the rights of Ireland. 



22 Hugh O'Neill's Wae. 

The heads of their Septs ever faithful and boldj. 
When called on, their own beloved flag to up- 
hold. 
King Philip t had promis'd their cause to main- 
tain, 
With a royal army from Catholic Spain. 
Thus kindly encourag'd, the mighty O'Neill 
Determined Elizabeth's forces should feel 
The might of his pow'r, and the strength of his- 

men. 
In restorino- freedom to Erin ao-ain. 
John Norris surmising his dangers too great, 
Withdrew with his army to avoid defeat 
To the town of Armagh, long wedded to fame- 
In the o'lories it won throuo-h St. Patrick's. 

name. 
That old honored burrough he took by surprise^. 
Affecting O'Neill's forces then to despise. 
He encamp'd his army before it to show 
The Irish could never such strength overthrow.. 
The chieftain of Tyrone was not unaware 

t King Philip, of Spain, sent three vessels loaded with powder- 
to O'Dounell and about two hundred men. and promised to aid 
their cause with men and money. He sent an agent to Ireland to- 
encourage O'Neill and O'Donnell, and assured them of very effi- 
cient aid in a short time. 



Hugh O'Neill's War. 23 

Of the Englishman's strength, and position 

there, 
And fearing to encounter men thus prepared, 
Feign'd movements which soon had the Britains 

ensnared. 
The Prince of the North* having marshalled his 

men. 
As if he were anxious the fight to begin ; 
Then cheering for freedom the soldiers began 
To march towards the foe with O'Neill in the 

van. 
His movements were seen by Sir John with a 

smile, 
In which the fierce furies were seen all the 

while. 
As he view'd the approach and gallant display 
Of the little army of Ulster that day. 
Then lookino- his own hosts with that conscious 

pride. 
Which makes the vain master his scholars de- 
ride, 

* After the English had taken Armagh by surprise, and garri- 
soned it with a strong force, General Norris encamped his army 
convenient to the walls of the city. His position there was too 
strong for O'Neill to undeitake to lay siege to the place, so he 
allured Norris by feigned movements to the Church of Killoter, 
where both armies came to an engagement, which resulted in the 
utter defeat of the Enghsh. The Irish soldiers pursued them under 
the very walls of the garrison . 



24 Hugh O'Neill's War. 

'' Those rebels who dared to oppress lis of late, 
Are now marchinof onward to a dreadfnl fate ; 
Our bright swords shall crimson the sward with 

their gore, 
No papist shall live in the land ever more. 
Prepare then to meet them my brave gallant 

men, 
Eush on to the contest, the battle begin. 
We'll teach them to respect our soldiers with 

fear. 
They know not their dangers so dreadfully near." 
Thus madd'ning his troopers with ire for the 

fray, 
He charged on the Irish now flying with dismay ; 
Their faces agast as if terror was there. 
And lent all its fears to the brow of despair ; 
So real did the feint of their terror appear, 
That Norris imagined them stricken with fear ; 
Then press'd down upon them like the rude 

storms' blast. 
When the tempestuous sky 's, with clouds 

overcast. 
Thus madly they rushed on the Irishmen's track, 



Hugh O'Neill's Wae. 25 

How vain were their efforts, how few shoiikl go 

back ; 
Being led from the walls of the fortified town, 
How fearfully dreadful their glory went down ; 
The clarion voice of the gallant O'Neill 
Arose 'hove the din of confusion's loud peal, 
As he gave commands to his soldiers to stand, 
And wipe out the Saxons from their native land. 
The English confused in their headlong career, 
Rush'd on to the contest unclouded by fear ; 
Not 'knowing the Irish had dared to contend. 
When death and destruction they'd meet in the 

end; 
Oh! presumptions pride, what delusion is thine, 
Thy glories are nursed in the hollow sunshine ; 
lieflected in dreams, where delusion alone 
Imprints all its pow'r in a magical throne. 
The Irish had rallied, their flight was a feint. 
And Britains proud hosts are all broken and 

bent ; 
The loud swelling cheers of the North Clans- 
men fall 
On the ears of the English, more dreadful than 
all; 



26 Hugh O'Neill's War. 

They break from their ranks in confusion and 

fright, 
And try to escape from their terrors by flight ; 
But Erin's brave Ckms press them back through 

the plain, 
Leavino' few to return to Armao-h ao-ain.* 
The fame of O'Neill throughout Europe was 

known, 
The pride of old Ireland, the star of Tyrone ; 
From whose brilliant lustre the patriot's fire, 
Was lit up through Erin for freedom entire ; 
That bright ray, so precious, shone gloriously on 
Awaking those glories in days that were gone, 
When sweet song of freedom, dear Erin were 

thine. 
And virtue lent all its pure blessings divine. 
His soldiers admired him and honored his name. 
His foes paled and trembled when told of his 

fame. 

The brave dashing chiefs of his own beloved 

isle. 
Grew warm with love in the light of his smile; 

* After this defeat, Sir John Morris withdrew to Dundalk with 
his army, leaving five hundred soldiers hehind him to garrison thft 
city. By this means, O'Neill became master of the field and inter- 
cepted whatever provisions were intended for the garrison, so that 
famine was the consequence in a short time. 



Hugh O'Neill's War. 27 

In Coiiimught,* the old septs gained great re- 
nown, 

In Innnbling the forces who fought for the 

croAvn ; 
Whilst Leinster and Munster still rivaled the 

west, 
In forcing th' invaders to lie on the dust. 
Thus Ireland was roused through the voice of 

O'Neill, 
To shadow the glow of tyrannical steel. 
Which gleam'd through the island in merciless 

hands. 
Dealing foul destruction through vicious de- 
mands. 
Old General Norris grew pale with surprise, 
And fearing his Queen would forever despise 
Her once favored servant, through his sad career,, 
Withdrew Avith his army to Dundalk in fear. 
He appointed Stafford to the chief command 
Of the garrisoned city he'd lately manned ; 

* O'Dounel liaving inarched witli his army to Connaught to aid 
the Irish, he laid seige lo the Castle of Sligo, which was garrisoned 
with two hundred men composed of English and Irish soldiers. 
The Irish hearing that their country-men were armed outside, at- 
tacked the English, slew the goveruer (Bingham, tlie younger) and 
surrendered the Castle to O'Donnel, who thereupon jtppointed! 
Burke to the Governship thereof. The Castle ol Ballimont was. 
also taken from Bingham, the elder, leaving the condition of the- 
English in Connaught in a very imcomfortahle state. 



28 Hugh O'Neill's Wae. 

To guard it with valor 'gainst the papist bands ; 
Who came to regain it with bold martial hands ; * 
Bnt Hngh of Tyrone and his men held the field, 

Determined the Saxons should starve out, or 

yield ; 
The provisions needed, their wants to supply, 
Fell into the Irish, who shouted with joy. 
As they bore them away to increase their store, 
Leaving the freebooters to sufi*er the more. 
The English in Dundalk, aware of their fate. 

And wishino; to save them from their wretched 

state, 
Equipped a large body, and gave them supplies 
To be borne away to Armagh, in disguise; — 

How vain was their plotting, how futile their 

plan — 
The Irish swept over their ranks to a man.* 

* After O'Neill had pui to the sword the soldiers that had been 
sent as a guard with a supply of provisions to the English in 
Armagh, he got some of his men to put on the uniforms of the 
Britains who had been killed, and ordered them to march to the 
ruins of a monastry that was within a gun-shot of Armagh. 
•O'Neill then pursued those supposed English with the rest of his 
men ; both parties then began to discharge their muskets, which 
were loaded with powder only, whereupon the men fell on every 
side, as instructed. This mock battle within view of the garrison 
drew the attention of Stafford, who commanded there. He im- 
mediately oraered half of his men to repair to the scene of action 
to aid their countrymen as he supposed, but what was their great 
surprise when they tound those whom they went to aid drawn up 
in order of battle and ready to charge on them, whilst O'Neill's 
-son lav in ambush with some infantry in the monastry and attack- 
ed them in the rear. Being thus placed between two fires they 
were completely cut to pieces. Stafford seing himself duped ac- 
knowledged that he was out-generald and surrendered the garri- 
son to the victorious O'Neill. 



Hugh O'Neill's War. 29^ 

Then bearing away all the prizes they 'd won,, 

Their broad claymores flashing the light of the 
sun ; 

They hailed their commander with loud Irish 
cheers 

And hallowed the o-reetino- with clashinof of 
spears. 

A bright smile swept o'er his classical face 

As he marched back his men with joy to the 
place 

Where the hirelings of Bess fell prone to the 
dust, 

Surrounded with heroes whose swords felt no 
rust ; 

Then choosing some men from his brave, fear- 
less clan, 

He told them with smiles of his begotten plan. 

The clothes of the Britains lying cold on the 
plain 

Were donned by the Irish, new glories to gain. 

Those troopers were instantly drawn up in line 

Their colors shone bright in the melloAV sun- 
shine. 

Their plumes danced in air as if Queen Bess 
had given 



m Hugh O'Neill's Wak. 

Her soldiers court feathers to fly up to heaven ; 
In brilliant display they marched proudly on, 
Determined the city that day should be won. 
O'Neill's dashing forces then charged in their 

rear, 
With wild, fearful shoutings, to make it appear 
They came with a vengeance to bury their foes 
3eneath their fierce onset, with tremendous 

blows ; 
Then commenced the mock fight, with earnest 

like dread. 
Some falling on both sides as if they were dead. 
The Irish would soon be the victors, 'twas then 
That Stafford addressed his own soldiers 

within — 
"Yonder corps, hard pressed, now gloriously 

tries 
To bear to this garrison needed supplies ; 
The Irish have charged on those brave men 

with spite. 
They cannot stand longer nor escape by flight. 
They waver, they rally, some fall on the plain, 
Prepare then to shield them, and avenge their 

slain." 



Hugh O'Neill's War. 31 

Those curt words of Stafford were cheered loud 
and long', 

'Twas the lone wail of death, their said fun'ral 
sono-. 

o 

Then half his doomed soldiers marched out to 

subdue 
The impetuous Irish, who dared to pursue 
Their heroic brothers, who came to supply 
Their wants with provisions when famine was 

nigh; 
But, Oh! what dread horrors and wretched 

despair 
Knit all their conjectures in war's issues there. 
When those who appeared such bold Britains 

before, 
l^ow helped to despatch them, with vengeance 

the more. 
The blight of destruction swept over their train, 
And all their sad struggles were hushed on the 

plain ; 
When Stafford beheld his best soldiers cut 

down. 
He gave up to O'Neill his claim to the town. 
The great Hy Niall chieftain returned his 

thanks 



32 Hugh O'Neill's War. 

« 

To the dauntless heroes who honored his ranks ► 

He called them his children, his own valiant 

men 
Whose glories should honor the old harp again.. 
Those brave-hearted soldiers regardless of fears, 
Stood moved like young women bedew'd with 

love's tears ; 
They blessed him, he loved them, with them he 

had toiled. 
They cheered him 'till echoes with loud shouts 

ran wild, 
They entered in triumph the gates of Armagh,, 
When the British forces were forced to with- 

draw. 
The joyful inhabitants thronged every street 
Where O'Neill was passing, his presence to 

greet; 
They hailed him as king of his own beloved 

isle. 
And called him their savior from Britain's laws 

vile. 
The bashful young maidens before him were 

seen 
Eadiant with joy in their beautiful green ; 



Hugh O'Neill's War. 33 

With white linen handkerchiefs waving in air 
Like snow-flakes descending" on bosoms as fair. 
The mothers with smiles, wedding sweetness 

with grace, 
Stood close by their husbands to look at his 

face; 
Then silently kissing their young ones with 

love, 
They prayed for O'Neill to their Father above. 
The old men stood bathed in tears with delight, 
When the smiles of the Chief, like Luna's soft 

light. 
Passed over their vision as magical bliss — 
Enchanting the heart with a fond lover's kiss. 
They spoke of his glory, they honored his name, 
The Hy Malls were valiant, distinguished for 

fame ; 
They gave kings to Ireland before Bryan 

Borough, 
That monarch immortal whom none could sub- 
due. 
They likened their chief to that hero* of yore. 
Whose triumphs were marked by the collar he 

wore. 



* Malacliy, the Monarch of Ireland, 848 A. D. 



34 Hugh O'Neill's War. 

The Caesar of Erin, their own beloved chief 
Who rose to defend them, and banish the thiet. 
The conquerer rode his white beautiful steed, 
Caparisoned over to honor the deed 
With trimmings of silver and trappings of gold, 
As grand as his fathers in the days of old. 
He read on the looks of the old and the young, 
Those fond hopes for Erin which lovingly clung 
'Round the hearts of her children — faithful and 

true; 
Like the ivy matting, the oak with its hue. 
His soul was affected with love like their own : 
Those fond throbs for Ireland were felt there 

alone, 
He knew it, he saw 'twas the bride of his hope, 
He loved to embrace it, with it to elope ; 
To bless his own land with its beauties divine ♦ 
The blessings which ever loved freedom are 

thine. 
Begotten in Heaven through God's holy will. 
It retains its bliss, all its glories until 
The power that created its charms alone 
Shall bear it from earth to His celestial throne. 
He spoke in his love those expressions sublime • 



Hugh O'Neill's War. 35 

*' Had I, like Joshua, the power to stay time, 
I'd show my loved people that Phoebus should 

stand 
And shed smiles of freedom all over the land; 
The frown of the stranger should pass from our 

shore, 
Nor taunt us with mocking delusions no more ; 
Their haughty presumption should never be- 
night 
The glories of Erin with vicious delight. 
Your smiles of contentment should playfully 

wed 
The brightness of gdory which liberty shed, 
To help to restore those proud dreams of my 

heart, 
I must leave you my friends to perform my 

part." 
These last words were wrapt in one continued 

cheer, 
Which knit the affections of friendship most 

dear 
Between the great chief and his own gallant 

men. 
As he led them onward to honor aofain. 



36 Hugh O'Neill's War. 

When Stafford imparted to Norris his fate, 
He felt that O'Neill was a champion too great 
To contend with inarms, — too mindful of fame, 
He feared that diso^race miodit be cast on his 

name, 
He instantly ordered his troops to prepare — 
His brow overcast with the wrath of despair, 
Impressed all his soldiers with silence as deep 
As if their expressions were sealed in death's 

sleep. 
With thonghts yet of trinmph, he set out again 
To restore fallen greatness, *in Connaught to win 
The honor he lost on the field, through Tyrone, 
Yet overshadowing that proud prince alone. 
The O'Donnel, soon hearing of his intent, 
Called all his brave soldiers around him and went 
To meet that bold Britain, who dared to infest 
The beauties surrounding the wilds of the West. 
Whilst General Norris, with ten thousand men 



* General Norris, after suffering many serious losses at the 
hands of O'Neill in Ulster, determined to gain fresh honors in 
place of those he liad lost, he accordingly set out for Connaught 
with a view of subduing that province He was joined on liis* 
march by ClanricMrd, and others, along with liavhig received rein- 
forcements from England, his army amounting to about ten thous- 
and men ; yet O'Donnel in the vicinity of Ballinroab with five 
hundred men. huving rejected his teims of peace, forced him to quit 
the province after seriously crippling his vast army. 



Hugh O'Neill's Wak. 37 

Lay encamped near Athlone, prepared to begin 
The contest in Connaught, O'Donnel dreAV nigh 
With five hundred soldiers who seemed to defy 
That grand vast array of old troopers who came 
To sweep from that province the war plume of 

fame. 
Yet all the vauntings of his fierce defiance 
Were racked in the throes of his unreliance, 
When thechief of Tyrconnel would not disgrace 
His own honored name, or the sires of his 

race, 
By accepting the peace of the English Queen, 
Who tried to dismember old Erin the Green. 
Whilst negotiations were daily going on, 
O'Donnel's brave rangers great victories won ; 
At length his disasters caused Norris to fly 
From O'Donnel's face, Avith despair in his eye. 
He lost through O'Neill the proud prestage of 

fame. 
And gained through Tyrconnel dishonor and 

shame ; 
Disgraced by his Queen, by Lord Burrough de- 
cried, 
Heart-broken, in Munster that old soldier died. 



38 Hugh O'Neill's Wak. 

Lord Burrouo^li* was next sent the Irish to 

tame — 
He dreamt of the deeds that should honor his 

name ; 
The rebels should bow down before him like 

slaves, 
Or fall, through his pow'r, into premature 

o-raves ; 
The old troops of Norris and Russel were sent 
To join his own forces, then northwardly bent, 
Yet further thanPortmor he feared to proceed. 
Presentment of dangers had slackened his speed. 
Leaving five hundred men to garrison there. 
To shoot down the Irish if they should but dare 
To intrude their presence, no mercy should save 
An Irishman's life who would not be a slave. 
Such were the vile wishes of Lord Burrough's 

mind, 
The soldiers he left there, as fiercely inclined, 

* The Queen having recalled deputy Russ -1 in order to re estn- 
blisli lier power once inoreiii Ireland, appointed in his place l^'ird 
Barrou'j;h, whose repuration as a riilitarv offlerwas higld\ fl iiei- 
iiig. One of his first offleia! acts was in r-Mieving ^orri- frcui tiie 
command of i lie army, and snndihK hini back to the }^(»vernorsliip 
of Minister forbidding him to leave there wiihout his l.erml^Slon. 
The insult weighed heavy on the proud spiiit of Norris. h- being 
already humiliated in his wars with O'Neill. It was supposed that 
he died of a broken lieart. Burrougli was of a tierce and haughty 
temperament. 



Hugh O'Neill's Wak. 39 

Determined to show him what feats they could 

do 
In shooting down papists when they came in 

view ; 
Their savage intentions were tested at length, 
Tirrell, having mustered available strength, 
Laid siege to the town with true heroic zeal 
To show those base troopers he defied their 

steel. 
On his way to Dublin, Lord Burrough was told 
That Portmor was threatened with Irishmen 

bold. 
He instantly crossed the Blackwater again. 
With his colors flying 'bove the ranks of the 

men. 
But the gallant chief of Tyrone came that way 
And dimmed all his glories of conquest that 

day; 
On the road to Benburb the hosts of O'Neill 
Stood proudly defiant like statues of steel, 
Prepared to resist with the force of their might 
The invading Saxons who rushed to the fight. 
Like Boreas, sweeping with terrific roar 
The forests, as onward it ruthlesslvtore. 



40 Hugh O'Neill's War. 

Lord Burroiigh commanded his dashing brigade, 
Rejoiced in his soul at the show they displayed; 
He rushed to the contest, too anxious for blood,. 
Whilst patiently waiting, the brave Irish stood. 
Like the god of battles amidst mortals seen, 
O'Neill sat his white steed with grand, lofty 

mien. 
In the van, directing the movements of men 
Whose glories were never yet equalled since 

then. 
Addressing the prince* of the Glynns who 

appeared, 
Like a true, noble friend in the vanguard pre- 
pared, 
He said: " beloved chieftain, to-day we must 

show 
The broad swords of Erin must humble the foe. 
The despot shall feel that our mettlesome race 
Must never yet bend with the weight of disgrace , 
Prepare then to sheathe your broad claymores 
to-day 

* James McDonnell, Prince of the Glynns, assisted Hugh O'NeUl 
in the command of his division, whilst his brothers, Cormac and Art 
O'Neill, with McMahon, commanded the other division of his army. 
Both divisions united in the contest when Biirrough endeavored to 
force through CNeill's position. 



Hugh O'Neill's War. 41 

In hearts long corrupted by tyranny's sway.'^ 
The O'Neill remained not to hear the reply — 
He read the response in McDonnell's blue eye — 
Then hurrying along through the ranks of his 

men, 
He cried, "soldiers, forward, to glory again. "^ 
One tremendous cheer from those brave clans 

awoke 
The lone, silent echoes, which instantly ^broke 
On the peaceful zephyrs like magical dread. 
Breathing siren-like wails 'round graves of the 

dead. 
Then fearlessly meeting the advancing hosts 
Of the men who came to dishonor her coasts ^ 
They fell on their ranks with the sickles of 

death — 
The harvest was dreadful, whilst dark terrors 

yet 
Grew fearful with action ; that day on the plain 
Lord Burrough* be'ng wounded could not long 

remain. — 
The o-reat Huo-h encourao-ed his men in the van. 
His name was the war-cry of each gallant clan; 

* Loi'd BvuTough was mortally wounded in the engagement. He 
was taken to Newry where he died a few days after. 



42 Hugh O'Neill's Wak. 

Unmindful of dangers, no pow'r could with- 
stand 
The strength of their love for their unhappy 

land. 
Kildare, next in command, the battle renewed 
With lioness' fury defending her brood ; 
But all his skilled efforts were fruitless and void, 
He fell in the contest, with his brothers* beside. 
The carnao^e ofrew dreadful — the o^roans of the 

dying. 
With chargers prancing and lead missiles flying. 
Imparted such pictures of horror and fright. 
That nature called down from her heights, sable 

night, 
To cloak in its bosom of darkness below 
The dread scenes of warfare, disorder and woe. 
The terrified Britains were stricken with fear. 
And fled in dismay like the wild mountain deer 
When startled with dread at the cry of the 
hounds. 

As if death was inhaled from those awful 
sounds, 

* The Earl of Kildare, being next in command to Burrough, 
renewed the attack with redoubled vigor, but to no avail; he suffered 
the same fate as Lord Burrough, dying of his wounds a few days 
after the battle. His two foster-brothers were killed by his side iu 
trying to place him on his horse. 



Hugh CNeill's War. 43 

Phey could not have felt so possessed of des- 
pair 

/Whilst rushing distractedly from issues there, 
'he triumphant cheers of the Irish arose, 
Proclaiming the utter defeat of their foes, 
irhe victor of Benburb, the great Hugh O'Neill, 
Blessed Ireland that day with the clans of the 

Geal. 

those fearful disasters were felt by the crown— 
The fame of the army of England went 

down ; 

Whilst Erin was honored by nations afar, 
|Her glories shone out from the triumphs of 

war. 

■The ambitious Ormond* was given command 
Of the royal forces, recruited and mann'd; 
He felt in his soul the proud herald of fame 
Proclaiming the honors surrounding his name. 
Determined to prove all his qualities then. 
He instantly marched North with eight thou- 
sand men. 

^Thomas Duff Butler, Earl of Ormond, was commipk)ned as 
T ieutenant-Gereral of Her Majesty's forces in Ireland after the death 
^ Lord Burrou-h. He was a very ambitious nobleman, who went 
agaiSsthTs own^countryfor the ^ake of favor and distmctjo^ He 
endeavored to bring about a peace with O Neill, but, attei l^o 
months' truce hostilfties commenced with redoubled action. 

I 



U Hugh O'Neill's War. 

Three thousand he ordered aofaiust the 

O'Moore,* 
Not doubting a moment that he could endure 
The force of such numbers ; their destruction 

fell 
On his loyal ears like a funeral bell, 
When the dreadful tidino^s of their wretched 

state 
In sorrowful numbers depicted their fate. 
The chieftain of Leix, having strengthened 

his corps, 
Rushed down on the Saxons ; the field, which 

before 
Lay smiling in sunshine, now crimsoned with 

blood, 
The tide of life flowing like a dark, swollen 

flood, 
'Till England's paid minions in confusion fled, 
And all their proud boastings were hushed as 

their dead. 
Whilst the Britains suffered defeat in the East, 



* Brian Riaoh O'Murra, or O'Moore, cut to pieces the three 
thousand men that were sent against him by Ormond, over one 
thousand five hundred of them being slain in battle with their com- 
mander, Maiyl'-orough was also taken on that occasion by the Irish 



Hugh O'Neill's War. 45 

The Marshal's* few triumphs were loudly in- 
creased, 
The heralds were praising his glory and worth 
In humbling the pride of the Chief of the 

North. 
But all their rejoicings were silently nursed 
When the pow'r of Bagnal for ever was 

crushed; 
The lamp of his glory was quenched in retreat, 
And victory's flashes obscured by defeat ; 
The vain, idle vauntings of envy's foul breath 
Were silenced in terror's dark shadows of death, 
For Erin's loved hero, impelled by his love 
For his native island, registered above 
In the Hio'h Court of Heaven the vow of his 

heart. 
That Bagnal should never from Ireland depart 
"Till broken like bent reeds his army should lie, 
Where destruction breathes from the sufferer's 
sigh- 

* The battle of Bealanabiudh. took place in the beginning of 
August, 1598, near Ardmagh. The battle ground was bound on one 
side by a boggy marsh, and on the other bj'- a thick wood. Marshal 
Bagnal, with twenty-four of his principal officers and two thousand 
of his men, were killed in that dreadful fight. The loss sustained by 
O'Neill was about two himdred Idlled and six himdred wounded. 
Twelve thousand pieces of gold, besides arms, pro^dsions of every 
kind, and all their artillery, fell mto the possession of the Irish, and 
the surrender of Portmor. 



46 Hugh O'Neill's War. 

How fearful he kept his dread promise that day 
Was seen in the havoc of death and dismay 
Which darken'd with horrors too dreadful for 

men 
Around the doom'd ranks of those freebooters- 
then. 
Had Jupiter hurled his thunderbolts dread 
From high-topped Olympus, the great fountain 

head 
Of the immortal gods, they could not affright 
Elizabeth's troopers like that dreadful fight. 
They broke from their ranks in confusion, and 

fled 
From the field of battle, strewn with their dead* 
The victor of Benburb Avas honor'd once more 
As the o^reat defender of his native shore. 
The crushed cause of freedom in Munster arose 
Through the triumphs gained by O'Neill from 

his foes ; 
The chiefs* of that province determined to stand 

* Fitzmaurice, Fitzgerald, the Knight of Kerry, Fitzgerald, 
Knight of the Glynn and Edmond Fitzgerald, called the "White 
KJQight," together with Dermod and Donogh McCarty, and several 
other cliieftains, once more formed a league against the Queen. The 
bravery of the renowned Earl of Desmond, whose deeds left an ever- 
lasting testimony of fame and love behind him, filled their hearts 
with heroism. They appointed James Fitzgerald, surnamed the 
"Red," as their leader, and acknowledged him as Earl of Desmond. 
The Prince of Tyrone aided them with jnen and money in their 
glorious struggle. 



Hugh O'Neill's War. 47 

Once more for the rights of their own native hind » 
They wrote to the bountiful Prince of Tyrone 
To aid their exertions with troops of his own ; 
He blessed their endeavors with greetings of joy , 
And sent them his brother with men who would 

die 
To humble the pow'r of the Queen on that soil 
Where Desmond's blood flow'd in defense of 

the isle. 
The proud loyal Ormond still held the command. 
Yet all his ambition for fame in the land 
Was damp'd by the^ great chief, who manfully 

'rose 
With lion-like courage and conquer'd his foes. 
Her majesty, fearful of losing her claim 
In Ireland, sent over a young man* of fame, 
With a pow'rful army, prepar'd and equipp'd, 
Determin'd O'Neill's forces then should be 

whipp'd — 
Yet Ireland's brave heroes undaunted remained. 
Their swords still unsheathed whilst British 

blood stained 

* Robert d'Evereaux, Earl of Essex, landed in Ireland on the 15th 
day of April, 1599. The Queen invested him with extraordinary 
power and provided him with an army of seventeen thousand foot 
and thirteen hundred horse, the largest force that had yet been sent 
to Ireland. 



48 Hugh O'Neill's War. 

Their fields with its dark hue, which fearfully told 
What Erin had done for her freedom of old. 
The landing of Essex to conquer O'Neill, 
Became the great cry through the land of the 

Grael; — 
The Englishmen lauded their hero alone. 
Whilst the Irish claim'd for the Prince of 

Tyrone, 

That no foreign soldier could ever destroy 

The strength of his might, or the flash of his eye ; 

The immortal gods dare not themselves ofi'end 

A chieftain so valiant, as their Ulster friend. 

Thus conflicting comments were rumored about, 

'Till Essex for Munster with his corps set out. 

Resolved to subdue that old province at first 

And humble the pride of its chiefs to the dust. 

But there he encountered the McCarty More* 

And Desmond, whose forces triumphantly bore 

The laurels of fame they so glor'ously won 

From England's proud Earl, her own beloved 
son. 

* Daniel McCarty More and the Earl of Desmond, with an army 
of about two thousand five hmidred men, encountered Essex at a 
place called Baile-en-Firntere, on his way back from Askeaton. The 
English outnumbered the Irish about thi'ee to one, yet the battle lasted 
from 9 o'clock in the morning till five o'clock in the afternoon. The 
Enghsh loss was dreadful whilst the vahant sons of Ireland had 
escaped the bloody contest with a far lighter nmnber slain. 



Hugh O'Neill's War. 49 

When the ambitious hopes of the Earl went 

down 
In Munster's broad lands, for the cause of the 

crown, 
He wrote off to Clifford, to join without fail 
His army in Ulster, to crush the O'Neill ; 
But Tyrconnel's chieftain t disputed his way, 
Their armies encounter'd about Lady's Day ; 
The governor fell on the red field of war, 
Whilst all who escap'd death were scatter'd afar. 
The proud soul of Essex was shrouded with 

grief. 
When the men he looked for to give him relief 
Were crush'd in their march by O'Donnel the 

brave. 
And Clifford, the tyrant, sent down to the grave. 
Where dark winding shadows of grim terrors 

led 
To dread yawning depths of Plutonian dead. 

t The O'Donnel came to an engagement with Chfford, on his way 
to Ulster, where he intended to join the army of the Earl of Essex, 
according to the instructions given him by the latter. The battle took 
place at the pass of the Corslieve Moimtain, and was maintained with 
great vigor by both parties with hke success until the gallant O'Rourke 
at the head of a body of infantry, appeared on the scene of action 
and turned the scale of victory on the side of the Irish. Clifford was 
killed in the engagement with fourteen hundred of his men. The 
total number that fell on the side of the Irish was one hundred and 
forty men. The Earl of Essex was greatly discouraged by the defeat 
of the governor of Connaught and his army, 
4 



50 Hugh O'Neill's War. 

Fresli troopers from England were order'd 

once more 
To increase the thinn'd ranks of the new EaiTs; 

corps ; 
But when he march'd forward to meet the great 

Prince, 
His soldiers committed a cowardly ofiense.* 
Like aspen leaves shaken by the storm's blasts 
When dark, murky clouds heaven's arch over- 
cast, 
They trembled and pal'd when O'Neill came in 

view 
With his lov'd brigade, ever faithful and true. 
Poor Essex beheld them with sorrowful eyes, 
To lead them to battle thus, would be unwise ; 
He knew what the soldier of Benburb could do ; 
Disasters would darken around him anew. 
Should he dare contend with the Prince of 

Tyrone, 
That hero whose fame throughout Europe was 

known. 
He wisely refrained from the contest that day, 

* Lombard says, Avhen the English saw the Irish so weU pre- 
pared, and eager for the engagement, they were so panic-struck that 
they were covered with shame, and afraid to hold up their heads. 



Hugh O'Neill's Wae. 51 

And scliool'd his ambition with thoughtful 

delay. 
By humbly requesting O'Neill to accede* 
To a truce of six weeks, to which he agreed; 
Then spending some time with the chief, he set 

out 
For Dublin, dejected and weary, no doubt. 
Evolving the issues of trouble and care, 
Which shrouded his hopes in the gloom o± 

despair. 
He thought of the glory surrounding his name. 
The love of his Queen, when to Ireland he came, 
The army which followed his standard alone. 
Was all he could wish to gain conquests un- 
known. 
Yet all his career in the land of the green. 
Was ruin and disaster to him, and his Queen; 
He felt that his glory must now pass away 

* The Earl of Essex, seeing the cowardly condition of his soldiers, 
sent a herald to O'Neill declaring that he came not as an enemy into 
his province, but to offer him terms of peace, and that he would 
send commissioners to confer with him in the matter, if the Prince 
would accede to his request. The terms proposed by the commis- 
sioners were rejected by O'Neill. Essex then sent his army to Drog- 
heda, and went himself to the camp of the Irish chieftain, accom- 
panied by a few nobles. The two soldiers having met, Essex be- 
sought the Prince to feel some sympathy for the humbled position of 
the son of his former friend (O'Neill and the Earl's father were two 
friends.) The great heart of O'Neill could not resist such an appeal. 
He accordingly granted him six weeks' truce. The time being settled , 
the two spent some time together in social enjoyment. 



52 Hugh O'Neill's Wak. 

When ordered to England without much delay, 
Before that his truce with O'Neill had expir'd, 
Which wounded his proud soul for thus being 

retir'd.* 
When Philip t the Third had ascended the 

throne, 
He wish'd to encourage the Prince of Tyrone 
In his war with the Queen ; he 'cordingly sent 
Him a royal present to prove his intent. 
Encourag'd and hoping for greater success 
From the Spanish monarch, to humble Queen 

'' Bess." 
The noticej requir'd by the truce to be giv'n. 
Was sent to Mountjoy || on a bright starry even ; 
His Lordship assum'd to make peace § with the 

Prince ; 



* Elizabeth greatly reproached the Earl of Essex for his con- 
tempt of her commands, and had him recalled from Ireland about 
the middle of September, A. D. 1600. 

t When Phihp the Third succeeded his brother as King of Spain 
he sent two legates to Ireland with a crown of phoenix feathers, 
twenty-two thousand pieces of gold and some kegs of silver, to the 
Prince of Ulster, besides giving him every assurance of speedy as- 
sistance. 

i According to the ti'uce agreed between O'Neill and Essex, a 
notice of fovu-teen days should be given by whichsoever party wished 
to commence hostihties first. 

II Charles Blunt, Baron of Moimtjoy, was appointed Viceroy after 
the recall of Essex, and at the same time Sii- George Carew was 
given the Presidency of Mimster. 

§ Moimtjoy tried to induce O'Neill to give up the war in Ireland by 
offering him the free exercise of his rehgion and reparation for the 
injm-ies sustained by the Cathohcs. But the Prince knew their 
promises too weU, and could not be influenced by the deputy to ac- 
cede to any doubtful terms. 



Hugh O'Neill's War. 53 

But all liis assumption and grand eloquence 
Were lost to that chieftain ; he knew that the 

word 
Of England with foul shame and sorrow Avas 

blur'd. 
Her promises never were faithfully kept, 
For dark deeds, like shadows of grim evils crept 
Where innocence slept in the hope of her trust. 
And realized only polluted disgust. 
The Viceroy, enrag'd at the tone of the chief, 
Determin'd to bring him to sorrow and grief; 
He 'cordingly hasten' d his army along, 
Like the " King of Men," in Homerian song; 
He sent a large fleet to a lake, called Loughfoyle, 
The soldiers commenced a grand forage in style. 
About fifteen hundred were met by O'Neill, 
Who dreadfully felt the great force of his steel; 
Their shades hover'd over that dread field of woe 
Where death and disorder slept shrouded below. 
Mountjoy grew amaz'd at the great slaughter 

there. 
And order' d his forces forthwith to prepiire 
To march back to Dublin, they could not with- 
stand 



54 Hugh O'Neill's War. 

Those fearless Milesians who fought for their 

land ; 
Yet, Erin's exertions, unaided, alone, 
Though sway'd by the god-like, the mighty 

Tyrone, 
Could never regain her long-lost liberty, 
Without a strong fleet to protect her at sea. 
Her harbors lay spaciously open all 'round, 
Denuded of forces, her foes to astound; 
Whilst England's fleet rode on the waves of her 

shore. 
Belching forth iron-hail from the cannon's bore, 
And bearing recruits like wild savages shorn 
Of human reflections, degraded, forlorn, 
To harrow the peace of her innocent soul, 
With crimes sanctioned only by demons' control. 
Yet fearlessly hoping, the great Irish chief. 
Determined to stand out, 'till Spanish relief 
Could aid him to expel the hordes of the Queen 
From the land of his sires, whose glories were 

seen 
In grand, royal pomp and pageant of yore. 
Which hallow'd the monarchs of the Shamrock 

shore. 



Hugh O'Neill's War. 55 

Mountjoy having" strengthen'd his army again, 
And meeting with Lambert and his wicked men, 
Wherever those tyrants went forth without fear 
Destruction denoted their hellish career ; 
At length they agreed that their forces should 

try, 

The chieftain who seemed British pow'r to defy, 
If Mountjoy could conquer that great hero now, 
New laurels of fame would adorn his brow ; 
He'd gain the reward,* and his glory alone 
Should eclipse forever the Mars of Tyrone. 
To the North the armies were hasten'd along. 
Their fame should be heard of in story and song ; 
They nursed the delusion with delusive joy, 
'Till the Prince of Ulster with his men drew 

nigh; 
Pears, doubts, hopes and terrors of what might 

arise. 

Were felt in their hearts, were seen in their 

eyes. 
They dared not encounter, yet feared to retreat, 
Disgrace and contempt would be worse than 

defeat ; 

* A proclamation about this time was issued by the Ecghsh gov- 
■ernment, offering a reward of two thousand pounds to any party who 
"would deliver O'Neill into their hands alive, or one thousand poimds 
for his head. 



56 Hugh O'Neill's War. 

For two weeks they kept within sight of 'ONeill ^ 
The brio'ht sun of Auo-ust shone down on their 

steel, 
Imparting the sheen of their brilliant display 
To the sons of Erin, in martial array. 
Determin'd at length, with one desperate aim,. 
To unman the Irish, with chivalrous fame 
They rushed with the fury of demons prepared 
To cut down the Irish ; no one should be saved ; 
But the sons of Ireland, as fearless and brave 
As lions watching ov'r their young in some cave,. 
Resisted the shock of the advancing foe 
With crushing resistance, which laid thousands. 

low. 
The war-clouds arose with deep, shadowing^ 

gloom. 
And smoked the surroundino-s from the cannon's. 



boom 



Whilst clashing of sabres rang loud on the ear,. 
With mingled commotions of horror and fear;. 
The tramping of horses in confusion rose. 
Impressing the gods wdth the conflict of foes,. 
Whilst doleful expressions of death-rending 
cries. 



Hugh O'Neill's War. 57 

In wild exclamations, arose to the skies. 

The gods seemed to move in their dread issues 

there, 
As the British hosts broke their ranks in 

despair ; 
Four thousand* lay stretch'd on the empurpl'd 

plain — 
The brave sons of Erin had triumph'd again ; — 
Their cheers, their rejoicings were greetings of 

love, 
To the God of battles, all glorious above;— • 
And their own belov'd Prince, the immortal 

Hugh, 
Whose glories shall ever shine brilliant and new, 
He> stood by to guide them, to win back their 

own 
From the polluted grasp of the British throne. 
The dark persecutions of religious spleen, 
Which Ireland had suffered through the English 

Queen, 

* Mountjoy mai'ched, in October, A. D. 1600,- for Ulster, at the head 
of six tliousancl men. He did not proceed far when he met with the 
O'Neill. The two armies continued in sight of each other fifteen days, 
w'ithout attempting anything, after which two battles were fought — 
one near Dundalk and the other near Carlingford. The English lost 
upwards of four thousand men ; the deputy was dangerously wounded 
and carried away to Newry to be cured. (See Mooney's History of 
Ireland, page 680.) 



58 Hugh O'Neill's War. 

Impress'd in the heart of that hero of fiime, 
That Erin should try to recover her name ; — 
In matchless encounters his valor was tried ; 
He harrow'd the foeman like foam on the tide, 
When swept by the blast of some terrific gale, 
Or crush'd by the force of some fast-sweeping 

sail. 
To bless the great chieftain, with pleasure and 

pride. 
The youths and the maidens oft knelt by his 

side ; 
Their innocence sway'd, aflfected his soul, 
With tender emotions he could not control : 
He labor'd to save them from every disgrace 
Whilst England had tried to wipe out the old 

race; 
His efforts triumphantly, glor'ousl}^ rose. 
Like the great Archangel, subdu'ng Heaven's 

foes. 
They fear'd the proud crest of the mighty Tyrone 
As dreamers oppres'd by grim terrors unknown ; 
Though his ranks were reduced by the storms 

of war. 
He stood forth alone, like that beautiful star, 



Hugh O'Neill's War. 59 

Awaiting the rise of bright Phoebus at morn, 
When o^olden reflections the hio-h hills adorn • 
He thought of his own belov'd, beautiful land, 
When virtue and glory walked forth hand in 

hand, 
Like Heaven-born sisters, divinely impress'd 
With the scenes 'round the loveliest land of the 

West. 
Then, sadly reflecting, he gazed on her woes, 
Her sorrows increased with the pow'r of her 

foes; 
He drew his broad claymore to stay their 

career, 
And the flash of its sheen had 'waken'd their 

fear. 
-They trembled before him like serfs of the land 
When the "Eed-Hand" wav'd o'er his own 

gallant band; 
But continued war had diminished his men. 
Whilst fresh Britains landed, and increased 

again 
The ranks of the foes he had thinn'd in his 

might, 
Like Hector of yore in the great Trojan fight. 



60 Hugh O'Neill's Wae. 

And like that brave soldier, when guarding hm 

Troy 
From Grecians who came its proud walls to 

destroy, 
He battled more God-like, when nought but 

despair 
Like grim shadows trembled, and seem'd to 

declare 

" The hopes of thy country are passing away; 

The Spaniards have failed to fulfill what they 
say. 

The South* is subdued, and thy glories alone 

Cannot vanquish thousands,! Oh ! mighty 

Tyrone." 
Yet dared he, and fought still the armies of 

" Bess," 
Eely'ng on the promise of the King's address — 
But that look'd for succor when rumored at 

length, 
To have left Spain for Erin, was shorn of 

strength — 

* Carew, the President of Munster, having in the month of July, 
A.D. 1600, destroyed the growing crops, and burned what was already 
harvested, caused a dreadful famine, which swept awaj^ thousands, 
of the Irish, and made that province an easy conquest, with the ex- 
ception of the army of the Earl of Desmond, which amounted to 
about six hundred men, who stiU kept up some show of resistance. 

+ The English were constantly receiving re-enforcements from 
their own land, whilst the Irish thus far received no aid froai abroad" 



Hugh O'Neill's War. 61 

The fates had decreed that the wild tempest 

blast 
Should scatter the fleet, when its white sails at 

last 
Like serial messengers, were seen to move 
O'er vastness of waters impell'd by their love. 
Don Juan, with a part of his shattered sail, 
Arrived in the harbor of ancient Kinsale ; 
The Irish threw open the gates of the town, 
And flocked to his standard, to fight for their 

own. 
Mountjoy, with an army of eight thousand men, 
Surrounded the place to confine them therein ; 
Whilst Levison's fleet in the harbor pour'd 

down 
Destructive red-shot to demolish the town. 
Yet fearlessly braving the pow'r of the foe. 
Those brave, gallant soldiers dealt many a blow 
To the haughty foeman with crushing dismay, 
Which harrow'd the soul of the tyrant each 

day— 
The princes, O'Neill and O'Donnel, set out 
From their Northern homes for the land of the 

South, 



62 Hugh O'Neill's War. 

To eftect a concerted action with Don, 

That Erin's bright name might live glor'ously 

on. 
The English, sixteen thousand strong, well 

prepared, 
Encountered their forces, who fearlessly dared 
To oppose such numbers, yet bravely they 

stood 
'Till their foes were drench'd with the embat- 
tled flood— 
The terrible odds of the Eno-lish at leno-th 
Swept over the Irish and master'd their 

strength ; 
The expected Spaniards* came not to their aid 
'Till hundreds were slain of the Irish Brigade. 
O'Neill seeing his best men cut down in his 

sight. 
By three times their numbers contending in 

fight,. 
Withdrew from the contest his brave men, with 

care, 

* A concerted action having been agreed upon by the O'Neill and 
Don Juan, the Irish were full of sanguine hopes and attacked an 
army over three times their niuubers, relying on the aid of the Span- 
iards, but their commander did not lead his troops out of the garri- 
son until it was too late, consequently the Irish were defeated, and 
O'Neill lost in that engagement about twelve himdred men. 



Hugh O'Neill's War. 63 

AVhilst Englishmen rushed wild to slaughter 

them there. 
He march'd back to Ulster with his colors fly- 

His looks yet determin'd, as if still defying 
The baseless usurper who came to destroy 
The peace of his country, her beauty and joy.. 
O'Donnel embark'd for the Old land of Spain,, 
To try to raise forces for Ireland again ; 
A new fleet Avas ready with that Prince to sail,. 
When Don Juan* surrendered the Town of 

Kinsale. 
The lonely glen echoes from silence awoke. 
Like the thunders' loud peals, which instantly 

broke 
O'er high-peaked Olympus, to stop the career 
Of Tytans disdaining the great Jove to fear. 
The wild cry of treason was all that was heard,, 
The echoes distinctly repeated that word; 



* Don Juan del Aquila, the commander of the Spanish fleet, sur- 
rendered the town of Kinsale to the EngUsh when all their stores; 
were nearly out. According to many historians they were completely 
exhausted, and their provisions wei'e not sufficient to last six days 
longer, while Don Juan was well provided with ammunition and pro- 
visions. The garrison was well manned with two thousand five hun- 
dred men. There were grave suspicions entertained against the 
commander of the garrison in consequence of this uncalled-for sur- 
render. All foreign aid, by this dishonorable act of his, was shut out 
from Ireland. 



64 Hugh O'Neill's Wak. 

Don Juan had betray'd his trust to the foe, 
The freedom of Erin was stunn'd by the blow. 
The province of Munster was all but subdued, 
When the chieftain of Bar re* the contest 

renewed ; 
His castles alone were yet his to retain, 
They were not disgraced by that false son of 

Spain . 
Dunboy, with its matchless heroes, alone 
Gave proof of such valor, no mortals have 

shown ; 
Their glories shall ever resplendently shine 
'Round th' alter of fame, at the patriot's shrine. 
The lion of the North, the shield of his land, 
The glory of Erin with his gallant band. 
Though humble in numbers, still terror in- 
spired 
In the foeman's heart through the fame they 

acquired. 
For years he had humbled the insolent Queen, 
Whose social connection with Erin had been 



* O'Sulleven Bearre, feeling uneasy at the conduct of Don Juan, 
took possession of the Castle of Dunboy, which belonged to him, but 
which he had given to the Spaniards as a garrison when they first 
landed. He wi'ote a letter to the King of Spain explaining his mo- 
tives, and at the same time criticised the action of Don Juan as 
wretched, inhuman and execrable. 



Hugh O'Neill's War. 65 

» 

A disgraceful effort in trying to subdue 
A race more exalted than she ever knew. 
Her frenzied career overshadowed the Isle 
With dread persecutions, which made men 

recoil 
Prom horrors too dreadful for nature to bear, 
In trying to proclaim herself as priestess there. 
Yet all her exertions were fruitless and vain. 
The Papal Tiara she could not obtain ; 
All England might bow at her fanciful shrine, 
But Irishmen never could think her divine. 
For years, the great O'Neill had battled for 

right. 
The fame of her soldiers went down in his sisrht : 
She tried to ensnare him by bribes and decrees. 
The Red-Hand flung proudly its folds to the 

breeze ; 
The daughter of Ann Boleyn could not tear 

down 
The banner of Ulster, though wearing a crown. 
Th' invincible soldier, the prince of Tyrone, 
Whose immortal glory shall ever be known. 
So humbled the tyrantess that she decreed 
She could not become head of the Irish creed. 



QQ Hugh O'Neill's Wak. 

Whatever concessions O'Neill* had required^ 
Were instantly granted as soon as desired ; 
Thus peace was restored to the land of the 

Gael, 
And blessino's decked fame 'round the brow of 

O'Neill. 



* The terms of peace offered to O'Neill were a general amnesty 
for himself and his allies, a free exercise of their rehgion, and the 
peaceful enjoyment of their estates. Thus the great O'Neill with his. 
gallant little army of a mere handful, compared to the superior num- 
bers of his enemies, after fifteen j^ears war, foi-ced England to yield 
to his demands. 




IKISH NATIONAL EFFUSIONS. 



Irish National Effusions. 69 



EEIN'S SOUL OF FREEDOM. 



The soul of freedom, Erin mine, 
From thy green shores has fled — 
The beauties of thy ancient bow'rs 
Which peaceful sweetness shed. 
No more can hallow scenes as fair. 
The despot's dreaded frown 
Has stained the pride of glories there. 
And wears a bloody crown. 

The glories of the past, which told 

Of Erin's pow'r and name, 

Are hid within the graves of old — 

Of heroes known to fame ; 

But from their memories, nursed within 

The hearts of Erin's own — 

Love, valor, wit, shall bless again , 

That land where they were known. 



70 Ieish National Effusions. 



COERCION LAWS IN IRELAND. 



A land submerged in soitoav's tears. 
An island crushed by tyrants' sway, 
Arises from surrounding fears 
Like sunshine chasing shades away. 
The dark impending gloom which hung 
Around its peaceful zenith, cast 
A pall of wretched woes among 
A people's love, too grand to blast. 

The nation felt the spreading gloom 
Which hemmed her in on every side ; 
Her beauties which were want to bloom. 
Had faded from the land and died. 
The merry laugh which filled the plain, 
And music' d every grove and bow'r, 
Is stilled within that sad domain — 
Hushed by the tyrant's damning pow'r. 

The land which freedom gave to song. 
When peace and plenty crown'd her brow 



Ikish National Effusions. 71 

In famine's dread distress too long, 
Tliouofh British rule was crushed 'till now. 
When overburdened woes pressed on, 
And graver threats than mocking woe 
Swept all the glories she had won. 
She donned herself to meet the foe. 



Her armor was the sage's lore, 
Her sword, the pen which told to men 
The wrongs for which she bled before, 
And dared to stand and bleed again. 
On every momitain, glen and vale, 
Her people met to change her laws. 
The land-lords, in their efforts fail 
To meet the issues — union draws. 

The gover'mental gory-head 

With gaping jaws of belching ire, 

Too long with ghastly horrors fed, 

Arises from its bloody mire. 

This monster grim with fiendish frown, 

Not satiated yet with gore, 

Another code of laws lays down. 

To shoot Old Ireland's sons once more. 



72 Ikish Nation.\l Effusions. 

For this coercion has been passed 

Through it the butcheries wrought each hour 5, 

Were nursed with its foul deadly blast, 

The hatch-plot of a minion's pow'r. 

The upstart's wish becomes a law, 

A bloody spectre mounts the throne ; 

Grim horrors feed upon, and draw 

The principles which Grod had sown. 



Irish National Effusions. 73 



CHICAGO'S WELCOME TO PAKNELL. 

On the occasion of his Visit to Chicago, February, 1879. 



Welcome Parnell, Cliicao'o bids thee welcome 
With throbbing hearts, which swell 
With greetings none can tell ; 
Sublimely reaching out to thee, Parnell. 

All hail, immortal son of fame, 

Chicago greets thy honor' cl name 

With drums and trumpets swelling loud. 

And thousands sway'ng, the rushing crowd 

All anxious to extend to thee 

A nation's blessings, grand and free. 

From out the dark surroundino-s o-rave, 
Which shrouds thy native land 
With gloomy shadows like some cave. 
Which death and dismal horrors manned ; 
Thy name untarnish'd bursts the gloom j 
The farmers' sad hearts to illume. 



74 Irish National Effusions. 

Too long the vanities of pride 

Have nursed degenerate laws, 

And sunk beneath corruption's tide 

Old Ireland's long-lost cause ; 

But yet that pride of freedom's right, 

Within true souls lives on 

Until that right shall conquer might. 

And bless new glories won. 

To proud Columbia's happy shore, 

Where freedom's sunshines smile. 

We greet thee, and thy friend* once more, 

Loved sons of Erin's Isle. 

The garden city of the West, 

With thund'ring plaudits, tell 

The joys arising from her breast. 

To welcome thee, Parnell. 

* John Dillon, M.P. 



Irish National Effusions. 75 

THOUOH SHADOWED THE GLORIES. 



Thouo'li shadow' cl the srlories which mirror'd 

thy freedom 
When liberty's echoes awakened thy name, 
And hallow'd thy beauty with sweetness which 

seldom 
Transcendently lights up the nations of fame ; 
Though dim be the ray, mellow'd yet by that 

glory 
Which sanctified freedom and sweet liberty, 
Its light shall still brighten the pages of story 
Which love has embosomed dear Erin in thee. 

Though vile bloody vampires have drank at the 

fountain 
Of richness of freedom so truly thine own, 
Until the brio-ht sun shine which kisses each 

mountain 
Is clouded with dark dreaded horrors unknown ; 
Yet proudly we love thee though long bitter 

sorrow 
Hangs over thy bosom, my dear native isle, 
The frown of the foeman can never yet shadow 
The sweetness of love in true liberty's smile. 



76 Irish National, Effusions. 



THE lEISH YOLUNTEEES. 



Eemember the days of the brave volunteers, 
Whose glories reflected the fame of their sires. 
Like true-hearted soldiers regardless of fears 
They ilium' d the nation with liberty's fires ; 
The sheen of their armor o'er mountain and 

dale 
Shed lustre as bright as the beams of the sun, 
And fill'd the large hearts of the sons of the 

Gael 
With fame, which their fathers so often had 

won. 

The British usurper beheld with dismay 
The fame-crested heroes of Erin's green shore. 
And fearing their prowess in martial array 
Acceded to wishes denied oft before ; 
The national rights of old Ireland once more 
Inspired the proud souls of the brave volunteers 
Uniting their forces in one army corps. 
The glens of green Erin were fill'd with their 
cheers. 



Irish National Effusions. 77 

Demosthenes like in defence of their land, 
The iron-voiced Grattan led on by their tone, 
The spirit of freedom with eloqnence fann'd, 
'Till England declar'd her a nation alone ; 
Oh, Erin! what proud happy da^'^s were then 

thine, 
Thy free trade restor'd and thy children 'gain 

free. 
The belching artill'ry, thy freedom divine, 
Flash'd to other nations far over the sea. 

Such happy days are they faded for ever, 
It is treason to wish their return again. 
But vain 's the tyrant who trys to dissever 
Affections so holy, so glor'ous as then. 
Those brave volunteers are uniting once more, 
The spirit of Emmet inspires them to fame. 
The freedom and virtue of the Shamrock shore 
Shall burst from the fetters of England's foul 
shame. 



Ieish National Effusions. 
SHALL THE HOPES OF ERIN, &c. 



Shall the hopes of Erin which link our affections 
To Erin enthron'd on the waves of the deep, 
Remain like a dreamer's somnif'rous reflections, 
Which are but the fanciful pictures of sleep. 

Unknown'd shall we live in the throes of sub- 
jection, 
Cold, cold and unhonor'd our names to remain, 
No halo of glory shall throw its reflection 
O'er ofraves which the essence of cowardice 
would stain. 

Shall the steel of the foeman contempt' ously 
gleam 

In the heart of a nation to terrors unknown. 

When chivalrous warriors have power to re- 
deem 

That land from the tyrant unaided, alone. 

The coward and the slave shall be ever united, 
No glory awaits them, in bondage they 're led, 
The heart of the soldier is always delighted 
With the rays of freedom his sabre has shed. 



Ieish National Effusions. 7^ 

Gird on tlieii 3^our arms, let your glories awaken 
The echoes of fame which surromicled your 

sires, 
Go, teach the usurper old Ireland's unshaken, 
Her battle for liberty never expires. 



THE HEKOINES OF LIMERICK. 



Beneath the dark continued smoke, 
Which overcast the peaceful sky, 
As when death flung his dismal cloak 
Around the ancient walls of Troy , 
The women of Old Limerick town, 
Gained for themselves love and renown. 

When the strong walls were batter'd down 
By the dread missiles of the foe. 
And whilst the cannon's angry frown 
Imparted terrors wild and woe. 
Those heroines rush'cl to the breach 
Like billows leaping to the beach. 



so Ieish National Effusions. 

With tlieir brave brothers side by side, 
Their fathers and their sons they stood 
Eegardless of th^ swelling tide, 
Orow'ng fiercer in the battle's flood ; 
With weapons taken from the slain, 
Their country's rights they did maintain. 

Within the hollow of death's pale, 
They fought to conquer or to die. 
And stood before the iron hail 
Until the foeman had to fly ; 
Oh! brave immortal women true, 
Your country shall remember you. 



Ikish National Effusions. 81 



THE LAND I LOVE SO WELL. 



There is an island sweetly ly'ng within the 

ocean's breast, 
Where beauty suns its ancient bow'rs with 

magic charms blest; 
Where fragrance fills the perfumed air with 

flow'rs from every dell, — 
That island is my Irish home, the land I love 

so well. 

Surrounded by the breakers wild from the 

Atlantic deep. 
It rises like an angel fair from surging mystic 

sleep, — . 
The sweetness of its purity from nature seems 

to swell, — 
That island is my Irish home, the land I love 

so well. 

6 



82 Ieish National Effusions. 

The youth of virgin's modesty is felt within its 
clime, 

Its ancient language mellow'cl with the beauti- 
ful, sublime; 

From innocence its children sip the virtues 
which dwell 

Within my native Irish home, that land I love 
so well. 

Its fields are green with verdant hue, the birds 

from every bow'r 
Carol their matin songs of love to wed the 

fleeting hour 
To charms nursed by grace divine, too sweet 

for man to tell, — 
Within my own loved island home, that land I 

love so well. 

The pure rippling streams indenting its surface 

like the veins 
Which course the human body through, supply 

it greater means 
To irrigate her fruitful soil with beauties, which 

excell, 
Throughout my native Irish land, that land I 

love so well. 



Ikish National Effusions. 83 

Yet from that land estrang'cl, unknown, I'm 

forced from her to stray, 
The tyrant's chams surround her now, until 

they're cut away 
By martial Irish valor, whose deeds of fame 

shall tell — 
That Ireland is proud freedom's home; dear 

land, farewell, farewell! 



^4 Irish National Effusions. 



IF lEELAND WOULD BE FREE, 



If Ireland would be free 

From British TjTanny, 

The soul of strength alone, 

Like God's love 'round His throne, 

Must fill the^heart and nerve the hand 

To bear triumphant war's demand. 

In union, men possess 

The greatness which impress 

The force and pow'r of might 

When nations spring to light. 

From glories signalized in war. 

When bless'd by union's guiding star. 

Distrust imprisons pow'r, 
When freedom's golden hour 
Invites the heroe's fame 
Her love, her joys to claim; 
Ah! love divine, distrust destroys 
Thy virgin soul where glory lies. 



Irish National Effusions. S5 

If Ireland would be free, 

Then let true unity 

Impress its love within 

The hearts of Irishmen, 

Then Erin's fame shall show its light 

'Bound freedom's altar day and night. 



THE MEETING OF THE CLANS. 



DEDICATED TO THE IRISH AMERICANS. 



Sons of Ireland's chivalry, true sons of sires ot 

fame, 
The silence of the martyrs graves, those graves 

of British shame 
Which lie neglected in the land, that land for 

which they died, 
Demands the union of the clans, those men of 

Erin's pride ; 
The stalwart, brave, united sons, of sons who 

dared to show 
Their fathers were true Irishmen, can yet repel 

the foe. 



86 Irish National Effusions. 

The spirit of submission to the freebooters* 

laws, 
Was never iiurs'd with the heart of freedom's 

holy cause ; 
That cause is Ireland's burning love, for that 

her martyrs fall, 
Unite clans at our country's wail, responsive to 

her call ; 
The da}^ of union marks the dawn of Ireland's 

liberty, 
Through hearts united in her fame she can be 

ever free. 

What though the weight of centuries of in- 
juries and woe 

Is heaped upon our gallant race, by an ungrate- 
ful foe, • 

The brighter should the lamp of hope in every 
true heart burn, 

'Till England's power was made to feel our 
power in return ; 

Such power in union centers, and dreaded 
issues spans. 

Let union be your link of hope, brave, fearless 
Irish clans. 



Irish National Effusions. 



WHY IRELAND SHOULD BE FREE. 



Why Ireland should be free, 

Was question'd once of me; — 

The stranger knew not why 

That Irishmen should cry, 

Expel those English hordes ; 

Proclaim it through the chords 

Of Tara's Harp, which fame 

Awoke to sing the name 

Of *one whose brilliant glories gave 

True love, to wed a soldier's ofrave. 



o 



Go, read her deeds, I said. 
See how her children bled; — 
The story of her wrongs 
Lives in her bardic songs. 
The hireling treachery 
Of English perfidy 
Ne'er can be wip'd away 
Whilst British laws there sway ; 
An Irishman can't live a slave — 
He'd rather fill a soldier's grave. 

* Brian Borough. 



88 Irish National Effusions. 

Our commerce they've destroy'd, 

Om- glories they've belied 

And filled the laud with woes — 

Like bestial, savage foes, 

The iunoceut, the youug, 

On their barb'd steel they fluug.— 

Ask if we cau forget 

Such deeds, Oh! never yet, 

Whilst God in mercy spares our race^ 

No despot shall our land disgrace. 



Ieish National Effusions. 89 



MY FEIENDS ACEOSS THE SEA. 



'Tis sweet to think of clays gone by, when 
friendship's love divine 

Stole softly o'er my youthful soul, when pleas- 
ures wild were mine. 

When fortune show'r'd her golden hours 
around my friends and me, 

Before I dreamt of foreign lands, or thought to 
cross the sea. 

What kindness nursed my little heart and fed 

my tender mind, 
When friends imparted blessings, those friends 

I left behind. 
When sun-shine smiles of happiness were all 

that I could see 
Within the bosom of my own, my friends across^ 

the sea. 

But all these happy days are changed, no 
parents greet me noAv, 



90 Irish National Effusions. 

The toiling weight of passing years leans heavy 

on my brow, 
Those childish ways I loved of yore before my 

vision flee. 
Since I withdrew in sorrow from my friends 

across the sea. 

A mother's burning love no more can cheer her 
lonely son, 

Within the grave she molders now — her mor- 
tal course is run, 

Her generous counsels are shut ofi* by stern 
death's decree, 

She sleeps the silent sleep of death away 
beyond the sea. 

My father too is lost to me, his voice I hear no 

more. 
Although he battles bravely on through life's 

stream at four-score, 
But how I miss his soft sweet smile, that smile 

I lov'd to see 
Before I left my native home to cross the 

stormy sea. 



Irish National Effusions. 91 

And often in my lonely walks, my sisters, kind 

and true. 
My thoughts recall those happy days when I 

had walked with you, 
And listened to the songs you sung so sweet 

beneath yon tree. 
Which overtopped our country cot, beyond the 

rolling sea. 

And, Oh! what sorrows cloud my mind when 

I enjoy no more. 
The companionship of brothers with whom I 

wander' d o'er 
The rolling valleys clothed with flowers for the 

honey bee. 
Which grew spontaneous in that land, my home 

across the sea. 

To the despoilers of my land I could not bow 

the knee, 
I cross'd the stormy ocean, determined to be 

free. 

Beneath the " Starry Banner" my future home 
shall be. 

But yet my heart belongs to you, dear friends 
. across the sea. 



92 Ieish National Effusions. 



TO THE IRISH-AMERICAN SOCIETIES. 



Expatriated heroes, undaunted sons of fame — 
Untarnished by dishonor, 
Lovers of the " Starry Banner," 
The land of saints and sages, a mother's rights 
still claim. 

Oppressed by foreign despots who mock her 

ancient lore, 
And introduce with nervous haste 
New Saxon laws, base and unchaste, 
Where justice held her balance pois'd with 

confidence before. 

From the surmno^ ocean's billows she lifts her 

head to thee — 
As mother she has nursed you well, 
Although the tyrants horrors swell 
Within her soul, unblemished, save by her 

enemy. 



Irish National Effusions. 93 

On you she calls as children to lead her as of 

yore, 
From the foul depths of oppression, 
When the Northmen held possession, 
And barbarously revelled in shedding human 



Eemember England's treachery, the pledges 

she broke, 
Her shameless acts through ages long 
Becorded oft in prose and song. 
And with united effort, strike off the foreis-n 

yoke. 

In union there is strength and love, then let 

that union be 
The stepping stone to freedom's land. 
Where heroes linking hand in hand, 
Stand bravely for one holy cause, the cause of 

liberty. 



94 Irish National Effusions. 



ARISE FOR FREEDOMS CAUSE. 



Arise! arise St. Patrick's sons, arise for free- 
doms cause, 

And gird the sword of valor on, lest former 
fame withdraws ; 

Never would your sires of yore bow down in 
slav'ry, 

Whilst there remain'd one native spark to con- 
sume tyranny. 

Your former rights are buried in the graves 

where now repose 
The silent ashes of your sires, crush'd down 

by foreign foes. 
Engraft their fame within your hearts and 

resurrect their rights. 
The angels 'round the croppies' graves shall 

guard you in your plights. 



Why linger on the slave's domain, where 
tyranny has said : 



Ieish National Effusions. 95 

Bind on those chains you abject race, before me 

bow the head, 
Subject yourselves as menials, and worship at 

my shrine, 
My will is law, my word supreme, your life, 

your all, is mine. 

No descendant of Miletius who loves his native 
shore. 

Can calmly fold his hands in peace, and wish ta 
wield no more 

The glitt'ring sword which patriots triumph- 
antly uphold 

As emblems of their country's love, far dearer 
than pure gold. 

Arise! arise! then Irish sons, and stay the 
tyrant's might 

Which lingers in your native land, to sow dis- 
cord and blight ; 

Unfold your own lov'd flag once more, o'er 
Tara's ancient hall, 

And British pow'r shall soon become another 
Danish fall. 



96 Irish National Effusions. 



LOKD CASTLEREAGH. 

[Supporting the Legislative Union Bill in the Irish 
House of Parliament.'] 



Oh! Castlereagh, false Castlereagh! 
How sad, how cheerless was the clay, 
When, for the sake of British pelf, 
You sold your country and yourself. 
And let the tyrant loose once more, 
To crush the pride of ancient lore. 

Oh! Castlereagh, false Castlereagh! 
Fed oflfspring of the tyrant's sway, 
A mother's rights you did deny — 
You snatch' d from her the cup of joy. 
And in her hour of peace and pride 
You plung'd the dagger in her side. 

With icy lips and languid voice, 
Whilst yielding to ambition's choice. 
No country, or no God had'st thou, 
When Saxon laws you did avow ; 
Yet such ambition could not save 
Thy body from a bondsman's grave. 



Irish National Effusions. 97 



LINES DEDICATED TO THE MEMOEY OF 
JOHN O'MAHONEY. 



An honor'd chieftain's soul has fled — 

A gallant son of fame 

Who nurs'd the love of Erin's hopes 

And gloried in her name ; — 

Whose heart intoned the echoing notes of free- 
dom's joyful tone, 

Which swept the chords of Tara's' Harp, when 
England was unknown . 

Another brilliant mind of love 

Is dimm'd by death's decree. 

And hallow'd thoughts like visions bright, 

Unborn though they be. 

No more can wrap his fancies in the beauties of 

each tone. 
Which noted angels' messages of freedom for 

his own. 

Another flower of freedom's growth 
Is cull'd from Erin's green; 

7 



98 Ieish National Effusions. 

And all its fragrant loveliness 

Wliicli beautified the scene, 

No more can cast its petal bloom on time's 

momentous shore, 
But yet, its grand magnetic power shall live in 

golden lore. 

Another shamrock from the soil 

Of Ireland's ancient race, 

Through the destroying hand of death 

No longer takes his place — 

The children of his own dear land, wherever 

they may be. 
Shall drop a tear in silence for their loved 

O'Mahonev. 



Irish National Effusions. 1)9 



THE SIEGE OF DUNBOY. 



For fifteen days the Engiish troops, 
Over five thousand strong, 
Beneath the walls of Old Dunboy, 
The siege had to prolong ; 
That famous chief McGreoghegan, 
Whose name shall never die. 
With seven times twenty Irishmen 
Was all that held Dunboy. 

But fearless as the men of yore, 
Which Sparta once had seen, 
Was this brave band of patriots 
Of Erin's native green : 
Determin'd to resist such force. 
They went to work Avith joy, 
Unmindful of the dangers which 
Appear'd around Dunboy. 

A battery of five cannon 
Before the walls was raised ; 
Incessantly their thunders roar'd. 
Unceasingly they blaz'd. 



100 Ieish [P^Tational Effusions. 

Part of the castle tumbled down, 
The English ran to try 
To force an entrance, but they fell, 
That day before Dunboy. 

The batt'ry still kept up the fire 
'Till the old vault fell in. 
Enveloping beneath its ruins 
Some gallant, faithful men; 
The Britons then in crowds began 
The breach to man on high. 
But Irish soldiers cut them down 
Once more, before Dunboy. 

A third attack no better proved 
Than the two made before. 
Although they gained the castle hall, 
They fled its walls once more. 
** Undaunted sons of Irish sires," 
What hosts you did defy — 
Did ever mortals fight before 
Like those within Dunboy. 

The President of Munster see'ng 
The bold defence they made. 



Ikish National Effusions. 101 

A fourth onset, far better planned, 

He ordered with fresh aid ; 

The cannon still kept belching forth 

Red iron-hail t' annoy. 

Those warriors brave defending- 

The castle of Dunboy. 

When the walls of the castle fell, 
The Eno-lish force beo-an 
With numbers overwhelmning. 
The recent breach to man ; 
The Irish stood like sturdy oaks. 
Their weapons still to ply 
In defence of their honor and, 
The castle of Dunboy. 

But they were forced to yield at length 

To o'erpowering troops, 

Who rushed upon the breach as thick 

As grasshoppers in groups ; 

Yet with a desperation they. 

The red-coats did defy. 

Until the '*' Johnny Bulls " once more 

Were forced out of Dunboy. 



102 Ieish Nation.^l Effusions. 

Althougli the brave *McGeogliegan, 
Being wounded mortal!}^, 
Yet like another Achilles, 
He still fought th' enemy ; 
Unmindful of his painful wound, 
As Hector loved his Troy, 
So fell this mighty chieftain brave. 
At the sieo'e of Dunbo}^ 



The little garrison at length 

Was overpower'd with men, 

Who knew as little mercy as 

The lion in his den ; 

But when our Irish soldiers brave. 

For freedom 'gain shall try, 

They'll teach those English blood-hounds what 

They did within Dunbo}^ 

* Richard McGeoghegan, who distinguished himself at the siege 
of Dunboy, although being mortally wotmded the day previous to the 
sacking of the castle, still refused to listen to the terms proposed by 
the Eughsh for the surrendering of the garrison, as he well Imew that 
no confidence could be placed on a government which had so often 
before disregarded its plighted word. When he saw the English 
rushing in crowded forces towards the entrance, he rose up although 
the grasp of death was tightening fast around him, and attempted to 
fu'e a barrel of powder that was near him, in order to destroy himself 
and the enemy, sooner than surrender to them. But he was pre- 
vented by Captain Power, in whose arms he was stabbed to death by 
the British butchermg soldiers. 



Irish National Effusions. 103 



THE LIGHT OF ENGLAND'S GLOKY 'S 
FLED. 



The light of ^England's glory 's fled— 

The glory of her pow'r ; 

A faded streak of milky thread 

Is all the former dow'r 

That's left of greatness once proclaim'd, 

A greatness oft dishonor'd, shamed 

By vile, atrocious, blushing deeds; 

Dark plots designed, when nature bleeds 

From base intents — to crush the weak with 

hellish spleen. 
Is all the greatness she has seen. 

The fame of Britain, nursed so long- 
By vauntings ide, vain. 
No more shall swell the nation's song 
With ribaldries again; 
The double-headed Eagle's swoop 
Laid Turkey fainting in its coop ; 

* These lines were written wlaen English diplomacy in regard to 
the Eastern question Avas looked upon by other powers as very hu- 
miliating. 



104 Irish National Effusions. 

The Lion gazed iu sullen dread 

Until the Eagle was well fed ; 

Then, crouching low, yet growling still, laid | 

down 
That title, to first-class renown. 

'Tis well the force of truth at last 

Breaks forth throughout the world, 

The moon-shine of false fame is past. 

And England's pow'r is hurl'd 

Erom wild delusion's summit high. 

To where the dregs of glory lie : 

Despised for cowardly acts, too mean — 

Dishonored in her own domain. 

Looked down upon by nations small and great 

To share, e'er long, the *'* sick man's" fate. 

* Turkey was called the " sick man " of Europe. 



Iiiisii National Effusions. 105 



LINES DEDICATED TO THE HIBERNIAN 
RIFLES OF CHICAGO A. O. H. 



Hail martial sons of sires of fame, 
Immortalized the regiment's name 
Shall stand, like the bright stars 
From nature's lofty heights above, 
Called down to shed light's golden love 
Around the stripes which art express'd 
With rainbow smiles of gold impressed 
Along the Banner Union gave. 
To wave above the free and brave. 

Hail sons of Jove's great war-like son, 
Enthron'd in fame through glories won, 
Make his great deeds your own ; 
Expressing wonder and surprise. 
Let every nation's gaping eyes 
Behold the force of pow'r each man 
Throu^-hout the ofallant "Rifles" can 
Surpass all others when called out 
To share a nation's hope or doubt. 



106 Irish National Effusions. 

When angry clouds of war bedim 

The brilliancy of freedom's gem, 

Gro shield its light divine, 

Infuse the dark surrounding gloom 

Which borrows shades from manhood's bloom 

With the electric fire of fame, 

Emitted from a soldier's name, 

And whilst thy nation's love is known, 

Her glories shall be yours alone. 



Irish National Effusions. 10' 



THE IRISH PATRIOT'S ADDRESS. 



Irishmen, sons of Irish sires, 

Unforgotten in your martial deeds 

Of undying fame and valor — 

Why stand you thus idly abased? 

And, as if it were thoughtlessly 

Wallowing in the mire of slavery, 

Subjecting your illustr'ous names 

To the silent graves of bondsmen. 

Alas ! my own belov'd country — • 

Ah! false suofofested itlea, 

Why should'st thou my muse inspire me 

To proclaim, '' Alas! my country! " 

Because of her foes? No, surely 

I did but mouth; the dark, frowning. 

Angry clouds, of murky hue. 

Which dim'd the zenith of our fame, 

Are dissipating fast away, 

Receding towards the horizon, 

Where the British Lion crouches 



10 S Irish National Effusions. 

In sullen despair, as Irish 

Soldiers make havoc in his lair. 

Ah ! perfidious pow'r of England, 

Thy vile offspring (usurpation) 

Never ponder'd for a moment 

On the inflexible will of 

Irish greatness, wherein now lies 

The impending doom of Britain's 

Humiliation, yielding to 

The mighty conquering prowess 

Of the proud children of the Gael. 

Oh! England, vile, false, freebooting, 

Marauding, vain and despotic 

England, had'st thou but paus'd e'er first 

Thy scampering feet polluted 

The bloom of the tri-leaf'd shamrock, 

And scann'd the stalwart forms of chiefs^ 

Whom Erin honored as her sons, 

Thy march, inglorious onward, 

Would have been impeded. 

And the pregnant storms of lurking 

Treachery, would never bedim 

The sweet sunshine smiles of Ireland, 

But the brilliant, sea-girt gem of 



Irish National Effusions. 109 

The mighty rolling Atlantic 
Pired thy jealous heart, and kindled 
In thy soul's imagination 
A lustre, whose brillianc}^ could 
Not reflect the diamond, without 
The Em'rald gem of the surging 
Billows of the expansive deep 
To reflect its beauties on thine. 
Inborn desire of uncouth reflection ; 
Thy heart's panting phantom 
Nurs'd wild, fanciful delusions, 
Which seem'd to enthrone the name 
Of England in historic lore, 
As the famed conqueror of the 
Great unconquer'd Irish Nation. 
Surely 'twas but a delusion. 
For old Ireland, though still bleeding 
And crushed down with bull-dog fury, 
Yields not to the base usurper. 
Though the poison'd fangs of England's 
Malice, with snake-like instincts, are 
Ever ready to bury their 
Deep-rooted evils in her heart. 
Yes, my oppress'd and injured land, 



110 Irish National Effusions. 

Though still uuconquered nation, 
Thy faithless usurper scoifs at 
Thy woes, and taunts thee in distress. 
But thy children cannot forget 
The frowning sneer of the scoffer ; 
The evils of centuries, serve 
But to enkindle in their souls 
A holy flame of undying fame. 
Which their names shall ever bear to 
Posterity, encaging the 
Terrors of the ruthless tyrant 
In the shades of oblivion. 
The day of freedom is at hand. 
That long wished for impassion'd day, 
Which has smiled through the distress of 
Ireland for seven hundred years ; 
Which alone kept the patriots' 
Patriotism burning with love 
Of fame, as it was to usher in 
The sun of freedom, which had long- 
Before cast its bright, cheerful smiles 
Of golden beauty throughout the land^ 
And sweetly bless'd a saintly race 
Nursed in science and o-olden lore. 



Ieish National Effusions. 1 1 1 

Yes, Irishmen, the day's at hand. 
And England's downlall is marked on 
The face of the orient sun, 
As he transcendent ly ascends 
The blue vault of heaven, to the 
Dazzling zenith of his glor}^ 
Let not the glory of that sun 
Depart beneath the west'rn sky, 
'Till the treaty-breaking tyrant 
Shall crouch submissively at thy feet, 
Supplicating mercy ! mercy ! 
That mercy which she never knew. 



112 Irish Natioxal Effusions. 



THE MASSACEE OF WEXFOED, 



Cromwell,* deluded by kingly assumption, 

In deeds of horror enthroned his presumption — 

The red-handed murders which stained his 

career 
In darkness and death, 'round his grave shall 

appear. 

His butchers alike for destruction were rife, 
Like demons preparing to quench human life. 
They mercilessly slaughter'd the young and the 

fair 
With increasing joy , as they view'd their despair. 

Their foul deeds polluted the green mantling 

soil 
Which beautifies Erin with nature's soft smile ; 
But never had mortals so beastly as yet 
Dishonor'd mankind as this inhuman set. 



* Lingard says, in Ms description of the Massacre of Wexford, no 
distinction was made by Cromwell between the defenceless inhabit- 
ants and the armed soldiers ; nor could the shrieks of 300 females who 
had gathered aroimd the cross prevent them from the swords of those 
ruthless barbarians. 



Irish National Effusions. 113 

When the armless, harmless men of the town 
Were shot without mercy, those blood-hounds 

came down 
With demon-like horrors express'd in their 

eyes, 
To the great cross, from which 'rose the 

maidens' cries. 

Those innocent fair ones, defenceless, alone, 
Would melt hearts with pity, Avere they not of 

stone ; 
Oh! blush, human nature! Ah, God is it so? 
They heed not those tears flow'ng from souls 

rent with woe. 

Base monsters of hell's belching horrors of 
dread. 

What demons your foul hearts with their vomits 
fed. 

Which shamefully led you, wild beasts to ex- 
ceed 

In bloody connection with this dreadful deed. 

Oh! God, what a moment! what death-dealing 
strife. 



114 Irish National Effusions. 

Those females, like iiugels, iire pleading for life^ 
AYliilst the Saxons' steel with their hot blood is. 

red — 
The vengeance of tyrants vrith innocence fed. 

Vile, baseless assassins, yonr dark deeds of 

blood. 
Which crimsoned with horrors a nation so good^ 
Can never be wash'd from the pages of shame, 
Like grim spectres 'ronnd Britain's name they'll 

remain. 

And when Irish vafor again shall be tried, 
Ah! snrelv the thouofhts of those lov'd ones 

who've died 
For the freedom of Erin, shall add to its might, 
Until British o-lory is i)aled in its lio-ht. 



Irish National Effusions. 115 



A DIALOGUE BETWEEN CKOMWELL 

AND THE BKITISH PARLIAMENT 

ON THE SACK OF DROGHEDA. 



Orom. — "To 3^onr Honorable Body I bring 
tidings of another wreath of laureled victory, 
which shall add to the fame of our countiy." « 

Par. — "Another victory, did you say, O, 
Cromwell? Truly, that is gratifying to hear." 

Grom. — " And in a more especial manner 
shall your Honorable Body rejoice, when I shall 
make known to you the sweeping current of 
unceremonious cruelties, which was my pleasant 
duty, to inflict on the inhabitants and soldiers of 
Drogheda." 

Par. — " O, chivalrous chief, thy country shall 
bestow on thee encomiums which shall eclipse 
the brilliancy surrounding the name of the 
victorious Caesar." 

Crom. — " I thank your Honorable Body for 
those kind expressions, expressions which I 
shall always cherish as the unclouded sun of 
my existence." 



116 Irish National Effusions. 

Par. — " And dost thou not deserve the thanks 
of a o^rateful nation for butcherino- those rebel- 
lious Irishmen^ whose very souls recoil with 
abhorrence at the freedom of our generous 
laws." 

Crom. — "That is the very reason that the 
angry whirlwind of my wrath became pregnant 
\Ai\\ lurking treacheries. I held out promises 
of pardon to all who should submit and lay 
down their arms. But no sooner had I found 
myself in peaceful possession of the garrison, 
when I commanded my men to bury their bur- 
nished baj^onets and flashing sabres of steel 
within the breasts of those doomed papists, to 
whom, but a few moments before, Tgave every 
assurance of protection. But was it not better 
and more honorable to break my word on such 
an occasion, than to allow such mortals debase 
humanity by their Popish ideas?" 

Par. — " You are right, Cromwell. You have 
the sanction of our laws, and you know our 
laws are generous." 

Crom. — " Kelying on the confidence of such, 
laws, I felt it my duty to enforce the resolutions 



Iiusii National Effusions. 117 

passed by your Honorable Body on the 24tli ot 
October, A. D. 1644, when it was stated in un- 
mistakable letters, that ' No quarter should be 
given to any Irishman, or to any papist born in 
Ireland.' " 

Par,—'' O, Cromwell I If Charles the First 
only observed our laws half as well as you do, 
Ave should not be compelled to steep the throne 
of England in the gory tide of royalty.'' 

Crom. — " The Parliament should be respected 
and its laws enforced, though the king's head 
should fall upon the scaffold. (To himself : ) 
' If I were king, I should execute the laws to suit 
myself, and then I should execute any minion who 
should dare to dictate to me. Oh ! how I long for 
kingly robes and regal power ,' " 

Par. — " Your words, O, Cromwell, are full 
of wisdom, and, without doubt, you have rightly 
served those unfortunate papists and rebels of 
Droo-heda." 

Crom. — " Let me explain to your Honorable 
Body how God blessed my endeavors at Drog- 
heda. After batterino- we stormed it. The 
enemy were about three thousand strong in 



118 Irish National Effusions. 

town. I believe we put to the sword the whole 
number of the defendants. I don't think thirty 
out of the wliole number escaped with their 
lives, and those who did are in safe custody for 
the Barbadoes. This has been a great, marvel- 
ous nierc}^ I wish that all honest hearts may 
give the glory of this to God alone, to whom, 
indeed, the honor belongs, for instruments, 
they were very inconsiderable to the work 
throughout." 

"For five days after the surrender of the garri- 
son, my men, through my orders, continued to 
butcher those defenceless prisoners, lest their 
Romish tenets should corrupt my brave soldiers. 
And in a more especial manner were my orders 
executed with zeal, when a number of ecclesi- 
astics w^ere discovered wdthin the walls of the 
garrison. My soldiers, knowing how I despised 
and abhorred such persons, in consequence of 
their religion and masterly cibiUties, plunged 
their already gor^^-dripping weapons, to the 
hilt, into their bodies until the last flickering 

Note. — Cronivreirs Letters to Parliament. 



Irish Xafional Effusions. 119 

rays of mortality were extiiio^uished in ao'oniz- 
ing groans. God nerved my hand to spill the 
blood ofpajnsfs.'' 

Par. — " For this important victory, O, Crom- 
well, we shall appoint a day of thanksgiving to 
be held throughout the nation. You have 
merited our sincere thanks, and we entirely 
approve of the execution done by you on the 
papists of Drogheda, inasmuch as it is an act 
of justice to them, and mercy to others who 
ma}^ be warned by it." 

Grom. — " It shall be my greatest pleasure 
during life to stamp out of existence everything 
Irish. They love their religion too much to 
become Puritans, and they are too brave to be 
allowed to increase. The only way England 
can hold her position in Ireland, is by crushing 
her inhabitants when they are not able to resist. 
Whilst they are prostrate is the time to strike. 
This is my policy, this is what I have practiced, 
and this is what I intend to carry out. The 
magnanimous laios of your Honorable Body 
give me every encouragement, and I shall 

Note.— See Parliamentary History, Vol. III., p. 1,334. 



120 Irish National Effusions. 

always avail myself of the opportunity which 
they offer in burying my sabre to the hilt in the 
bodies of the Irish, regardless ot 7nen, ivomen 
or children. Alike they shall all fall beneath 
my power. Our generous laws proclaim it 
just, and such justice shall be meted to them."^ 
Par. — " May God grant you to fulfill such a 
mission. The Irish have always been a source 
of trouble. They disclaim the idea of being 
British subjects. . No king or queen can conquer 
them. Their patriotism is a dagger in the side 
of the British Lion, and if you extract it, you 
shall have done more for England than all 
England herself can accomplish." 



MOTHER ERIN SPEAKS 

Disturbers of my children's peace, 
Your vile designs but swell 
The contamination which surrounds 
The crimes you love so Avell. 
Take heed polluted Britishers ; 
The horrors which outline 



Irish National Effusions. 121 

Those evils which you've practiced long, 

So oft, on me and mine, 

Within the hearts of my loved sons 

For ever shall remain. 

Until they've paid you back in tons 

Of teal's, for your disdain. 

The blasphemous expressions which 

Knave Cromwell has express'd, 

Would shame the great arch-fiend himself^ 

By whom he is possess'd. 

The murders he has committed 

Unpunish'd shall not go, 

My valiant sons, remember well 

That England is my foe. 

The day of retribution yet 

Shall dawn with crimsoned rays. 

And England never shall forget 

The mem'ry of those days. 

And thou perfid'ous Parliament, 

With all thy gen'rous laws. 

Which sanction crime, without reserve, 

To crush out freedom's cause. 

The sword of justice shall dethrone 



122 Irish National Effusions. 

Each vicious, mad decree 

Which you have always issued 'gainst 

My children brave and me. 

The glory of all former fame 

From thee shall pass away, 

And bless my ancient race and name 

With lio-ht of freedom's day. 



THE BLOODY CROWN OF ENGLAND. 



The bloody crown of England no more shall 

rule our land, 
The Saxon's footsteps shall be seen receding 

from our strand; 
Like Caesar on the battle-field, dispatching back 

to Rome, 
Ireland shall yet proclaim the freedom of her 

home. 

What trembling serf shall underrate the glory 
of our cause, 



Irish National Effusions. 123 

When liberty proclaims the right to crush out 
slavish laws? 

The coward shall bow his head in shame and 
sink in slavery, 

Eiit Irishmen fear not to die, to leave Old Ire- 
land free. 

Don your martial robes, my sons, and hasten to 
proclaim 

The resurrected valor of old Erin's restored 
fame; 

Let nations wonder at your power, as they have 
done of yore. 

When, terror stricken and dismayed, the North- 
men fled your shore. 

Bright shall the sun of vict'ry shine upon the 

Em'rald Isle, 
When bloated Johnny shall forsake the glory 

of his spoil ; 
That land of o-olden lore which cast its beauties 

o 

o'er his brow. 
No more shall light the tyrant's fece, it shines 
on freedom now. 



24 Irish National Effusions. 



EMMETT. 

Why breathe not his name, 'tis the beacon of 
glory, 

Which his patriotism to tyranny gave ; 

From father to son, 'tis transmitted in story. 

It looms through the darkness 'round the pa- 
triot's grave. 

In the pride of his youth like a beautiful fiow'r, 
Which bloom'd but to perish by the despoiler's 

hand, 
Thus Erin, thy Emmet was crushed in his poAv'r, 
In defending the rights of his dear native land. 

In his lone cell at night, each throbbing 

emotion 
Which swept the loved strings of the old notes 

of time, 
Evok'd in his heart a sad, holy devotion, 
For his country's harp-not ings, so grand and 

sublime. 



Irish National Effusions. 125 

The blood-stained usurper, dear Emmet, wlio 

bound thee. 
And prejudg'd thee to death with a frown of 

disdain, 
Could never dethrone the affections around 

thee. 
Which thy country — though bleeding — shall 

always maintain. 

Shall that nation which lov'd him, still languish 

and mourn. 
When his spirit cries out with the patriot dead, 
To strike for the freedom which England has 

torn 
From the bosom of Erin, for which martyrs 

bled? 



12G Irish Nations. Effusions. 



SAD! SAD WAS THE DAY. 



Sad! sad was the day, when the freedom of Erin 
Was dimmed in its glory by freebooting power, 
When red-handed bigots demanded a share in 
That hind, where nsnrpers ne'er reigned for an 

hour ; 
AVhen the men of the North were swept to 

destruction, 
As if Hecla belch'd on them its dire eruption,, 
Engulfing forever each future pretension 
To conquer the warriors of Erin-go-bragh. 

Thy fame was unbroken, thy sons were united. 
And thy heroes unmatch'd in the prowess of 

war — 
Unbought by corruption, with virtue delighted^ 
The bright hopes of Erin shone forth like a 

star ; 
In the strength of their youth they fought with 

emotion, 
To render their country the pride of the ocean. 
Whilst bards indigen'ous sung songs of devotion 
To Erin, loved Erin, Old Erin-go-bragh. 



IiiiSH National Effusions. 127 

But, alas ! beiov'd country, disunion and strife 
Oversliadow'd thy beauties with mis'ry and woe^ 
And put into the hand of the stranger, the knife 
To strike thy dear heart, a cruel, treacherous 

blow ; 
Oh! traitor McMurrough, thy country shall 

mourn 
As long- as her harp remains sad and forlorn, 
And her shamrock, Iw Britons be tramped with 

scorn — 
For thy hand sow'd disunion in Erin-go-bragh. 

Yet the tyrant who l)inds thee, my coinitry, no 
more 

Can keep thee in l^ondage, if thy children arise 

And recall to their memories the deeds of yore. 

Which their sires in the time of their greatness^ 
did prize. 

Beiov'd kind of my fathers, unconquer'd as yet,. 

The cruel, lawless stranger who crush'd thee 
may fret, 

For the blood he has shed we shall never for- 
get: 

'Till England is vanquish'd by Old Erin-go- 
bragh. 



128 Irish National Effusions. 



WHAT ARE IRELAND'S PROSPECTS 

NOW ? 



What are Ireland's prospects now, from land- 
lordism dread? 

Shall t^^rants still avow the miseries they've 
bred, 

Like foul pollution, spreading its blasting views 
alone, 

When virtue's shining brilliancies appear 
fore'er o'one? 

'Tis hard to understand what issues are in 
store 

For those who till the land, in Erin's sad green 
shore ; 

Rulers there dishonor worth, and shield free- 
booters when 

Other nations on this earth call them dishonest 
men. 

What can a nation do when thieves upon her 
prey. 



Irish National Effusions. 129 

And tyrants still renew the despot's former 
SAYay; 

When the minions of the law become a lawless 
band, 

And justice hides dishonor'd beneath corrup- 
tion's hand? 

^Tis hard, indeed, to tell, the pregnant future's 

child 
May bless C. S. Parnell with prospects grand 

and mild. 
Or storm nature at its birth with gaping jaws 

of ire. 
Emitting from destruction's breast blasts of 

burning fire. 

The force of pow'r alone uniting hearts and 

hands. 
Can monarchs vile dethrone, and all their base 

commands 
Shall vanish like the blasts of hyperborean 

wrath, 
Eemembered but for the ills, destructions, which 

they brought. 



130 Irish Nation^o. Effusions. 

The gloom which shrouds the hour of morning's 

freedom sun, 
Shall melt before the pow'r of deeds of glories 

won, 
And cradle happiness and fame in smiles of 

beaming love. 
Surrounded with those blessings, bestowed b}^ 

God above. 

That hour is near at hand, prepare, brave, gal- 
lant men, 

To Aved your native land, and be her pride again 

With hearts and souls proclaim, through 
union's strength, your cause. 

And every nation's fame shall ring for you 
applause. 

The peaceful ^smiles of bliss shall light your 
glories^on. 

And sun-shine beauties kiss the graves of heroes 
gone; 

These are thy prospects Erin now, dear mother- 
land of mine, 

May God enthrone thy glories with His great 
hand divine. 



Irish National Effusions. 131 



LINES WRITTEN ON THE OCCASION OF 

THE INCARCERATION OF THE HON. 

CHARLES STEWART PARNELL. 



Exalted chief, in thy chains we admire thee, 
And feel every pang in thy cell which is thine, 
We think of the dread, lurking horrors 'round 

thee, 
Which tyrants hoard up to crush each free 

design. . 

The sweet, lovely germs which feed thy affec- 
tion , 
To regenerate thy loved nation with love, 
Could not take root in the wiles of subjection — 
It springs from the essence of freedom above. 

Enthroned in thy heart's deep 'motions, loved 

Erin, 
Surrounded with chains, lay reclining in tears; 
Son-like responding, such sorrows to share in, 
Or unbind the chains which have bound her for 

years. 



132 Irish National Effusions. 

The blood-stained usurpers who've murder'd 

our sires, 
And laughed at their miseries with scornful jest, 
Grow pale with anxiety, lest thy desires 
Should nurse love of hope in each Irishman's 

breast. 

Like thieves in the night they broke thy calm 

slumbers. 
And bound thee in irons for love ever thine — 
They dread'd its effects on patriot numbers 
Might rouse them to glory for freedom divine. 



Irish National Effusions. 133 



MY NATIVE LAND. 



Sweet lovely island, fairest of nature, 
Though fragrance breathes through thy clewey 

flow'rs. 
Thy hills are clothed with usurpation 
Which mars the peace of thy tranquil bow'rs ; 
The tyrants sway there knows not perfection, 
But begets sorrows which often swell 
Within the hearts of the sons of Erin, 
Whilst tears respond to each sad farewell. 

Those verdant valleys where feather'd warblers, 
With silvery notings fill'd the pure air. 
No more can cheer the son of the muses. 
Who oft was wrapt in bright scen'ries there ; 
Home of my childhood, thy thoughts are dearer 
Within my heart than my muse can tell, 
'Tis through my love, I was forced to leave 

thee. 
And say with sorrow, dear land, farewell! 



134 Irish National Effusions. 

Oh! rare clad mountains, liills of St. Patrick, 
Your summits sip the celest'al dews. 
As if to show an approximation 
To wide expanse of ether' al views ; 
Dear native island, thy fame and glory. 
Like sister stars yet, light up each dell. 
Though British tyrants have tried to shadow 
Their brilliant rays with the smoke of hell. 

Triumphant greetings which oft extol'd thee, 
Now lie submerg'd in thy children's tears, 
But the usurper who mocks their weeping, 
Kests not the night from surrounding fears ; 
Yes, well might Britain look 'round and 

tremble, 
The stino's she o-ave are remember' d well. 
The sons of Erin are not forgetful — 
Eevenoe seeks veno-eance where tyrants dwell. 



Irish Natioxal Effusions. 135 



THE MAIDS OF ERIN. 



Sweet lovely maidens of Erin, 
Your blushes of purity glow 
Like the pure lamp-light of virtue, 
Far fairer than blood upon snow. 

What beauty can equal the charms 
Of Erin's lov'd daughters so mild, 
Innocence, truth and devotion, 
They cling to, as much as the child. 

What virtue and sweet affection 
Dwell in their rolling blue eyes, 
Their voice-like soft notes of music, 
Sounds magic-like even in sighs. 

Calm lovely daughters of Erin, 
Your virtue is grafted in fame. 
Some maidens your charms might equal, 
But none, vour devotion can claim. 



136 Irish National Effusions. 



THE HOME OF MY YOUTH. 



In clisconsolation, I wander forlorn 

From the friends of my youth who once 

cherish' d me kind, 
And the home of my chiklhood where oft I 

phinted 
Sweet jasmine roses with a light buoyant mind. 
Now, no lonofer I o-aze with fond admiration 
On that lovely green cottage, my day dream of 

yore- 
Its beauties my memory shall ever awaken, 
Thouofh the wide foaminor ocean between us 

shall roar. 

How fleet were the moments to me as I linger'd^ 
When the last rays of Phoebus adorned the 

West, 
What youthful emotions of joy I experienc'd 
In the bosom of friends, I loved dearest and 

best. 



Irish National Effusions. 137 

Each evening at twilight whilst soft winds Avere 

blowing, 
And the landscape before me was charming to 

view, 
I sat by the side of my dear loving mother 
'Till the sweet flow'rs of summer were laden 

with dew. 

How sweet were the hours whilst her soft 
beaming glances. 

Like the bright smiles of Luna, looked kindly 
on me — 

Her gentle caresses I fondly remember. 

When bowino' at the alter of death's sad decree. 

How lonely I watched her when life was de- 
parting. 

Every pulse of my heart beat heavy with woe, 

Whilst sadly her cold lips I pressed with 
devotion, 

As the tears from my eyes like a fountain did 
How. 



138 Irish National Effusions. 



IPvELAND. 



Sweet laud of my fathers, for ages, througli 

ages, 
Fair Eden \yitli charms of sweetness thine own, 
Where now are thy heroes, thy statesmen and 

sages ? 
Have they left thee in bondage to struggle 

alone? 

The gloiy w^hich fame shed its lustre around 

thee, 
Like transcendent greetings of heavenly bliss, 
No longer illumes all those virtues around thee. 
Which chivalry sealed with an immortal kiss. 

The polluted touch of the freebooting stranger. 
Has blighted those sun-smiling glories of fame. 
The dark brooding evils of tyrants endanger 
The life of those loved ones, who cling to thy 
name. 



Irish National Effusions. 139 

But England shall feel that the glory of Erin, 

Though shrouded by tyranny's spectres of 
dread, 

Shall rise through the pow'r of her own be- 
loved, wherein 

The spirit of fame throughout ages was bred. 

Lov'd Erin, thy sons are as brave yet as ever, 
Their every heart's pulse is a life sign for thee, 
They wait but the moment thy cruel chains to 

sever. 
And lead thee triumphant to sweet liberty. 



POUGHLUE EYON. 



PouGHLUE Eton. 141 



INTRODUCTION TO POUGHLUE ETON 



Tradition has carefully nursed the wild, 
romantic stories which breathe the mysteries 
of Poughlue Eyon. 

Long before the missionary labors of St. 
Patrick, it was customary for the Irish people 
to offer their tributes of praise, thanksgiving 
and adorations to idols . The sun , as the grandest 
of all visible objects, was acknowledged their 
Supreme Being. History records the fact of 
the Irish Druids lighting fires, and driving their 
cattle between them, that they might escape 
any contagion which should arise in the island. 
These fires they called Belltaine and Baltine, 
that is, the fire of the god of Baal. 

At the time, when the facts narrated in the 
following poem occurred, the people were ex- 
tremely superstitious, and to such an extent did 
they inculcate its principles in the minds of 
their children, that, even in the present day in 



142 PouGHLUE Eton. 

Ireland, among the more ignorant of the 
peasants, a spirit of this former superstition 
stalks abroad in unmistakable evidence of its 
traditional nature. 

About nine miles east of the city of Limerick 
(the city of the broken treaty) a beautiful 
mound, from an unbroken plane, rises itself 
aloft until its summit, five hundred feet above 
the level of the sea, looks proudly down on one 
of the grandest landscapes of nature, known 
to the inhabitants of the county, as the "golden 
vale." This beautiful country, like a vast ex- 
tended tairy-lawn, ravishes the eye with its 
purest emerald, while the daisies bespangle its 
bosom with their lovely hues of red and white > 
adding an expressive grandeur to the scene. 
On the other side, a marshy waste spreads itself 
out in a northerly direction, and casts a rather 
sombre, shadowy gloom around the base of the 
mound, as if some lurking, unawed hobgoblings 
dwelt in the bosom of its treacherous aspect. 

A tributaiT of the Shannon waters its base 
with its silvery ripplings, and sanctifies the 
scene, with the almost silent murmurings of its 



POUGHLUE EyOX. 143. 

peaceful waters. On the top of this hill, be- 
neath the foliaged boughs of the Irish oaks, a 
dark, dread cavern sinks its shaft of unfithomed 
space through the bowels of his moundship, 
as if a bolt from Jove's right arm, hurled with 
the vengeance of an angry god, tore from its 
crested pride, some imagined foe hid beneath 
the recesses of its interior depths. So appears^ 
the yawning abyss which opens with sepulchre- 
like shape on the very summit of this hill, 
traditionally known as " Poughlue Eyon." 

An old Irish clan of the name of Eyon, for cen- 
turies occupied that part of the country. They 
worshipped the sun as the great god who swayed 
the universe, and directed everything according^ 
to the dictates of his almighty power. He it 
was, they believed, who, in the transcendent 
glory of his animated nature, caused this cave 
to shaft the mound, to light up a subterranean 
rivulet, which flowed from its base in mystie 
meanderings into the queenly Shannon, as it 
proudly swept the boundary of Limerick in it^ 
course to the mighty Atlantic. 

This princely race of Milesian extraction, held 



144 POUGHLUE EyON. 

undisputed sway over half of Limerick for 
hundreds of years, until a wild, half savage 
tribe from Normandy, brought hither in quest 
of plunder, in one dread night, while sleep 
calmed in its peaceful sweetness the entire 
community, they fell victims of an unholy con- 
quest to the barbarian hosts who swept over 
their country, and left but two to tell the tale 
of that bloody carnage, which obliterated the 
power and glory of the proud chiefs of the 
clan of Eyon. One Avas the oldest son of the 
reigning chief, Adrastus Eyon, who was 
married the previous night to Irena McMore, 
the daughter of a Munster chief, whose beauty 
and virgin modesty veiled her lovely form, like 
the crystal dew drops bathing the fairest lily 
with glistening purity. 

They had just retired from the banquet-hall 
of his father's castle, to his own princely court, 
when his valet, in breathless anxiety, rushed 
into his bed chamber, and hastily told him of 
the massacre of the chiefs of his race; then, 
with all the alacrity of a faithful servant, he 
rushed into the court-yard, and pushed his way 



POUGHLUE EyON. 145 

with a determined purpose to the hostelry, and 
prepared two horses for his master and lady. 
With these he returned to the mansion-house, 
where the chieftain and his bride, eagerly 
mounted their steeds and fled from their sump- 
tuous halls in the darkness of the night, like 
condemned criminals. 

Disguised as peasants, on the following day 
they sought a glen, which afi'orded them a safe 
hiding place from the ruthless stranger. Here 
they were warned in a dream to reside, until an 
avenger from their race would smite the bar- 
barous foeman. Guided by the inspiration of 
this dream, they settled down to abide the 
wishes of the gods. In the course of time a 
son was born to them, and he was called after 
his murdered grandfather, Adrastus Eyon. His 
mother, one of the most accomplished scholars 
of the age, instructed her youthful son in four 
or five difi'erent languages, amongst them, the 
Norman tongue, which she herself had learned 
from her mother's uncle, a nobleman of Frank- 
ish origin. Two other children were born to 
them, but they died very young, leaving 
Adrastus the sole heir of a usurped province. 

10 



146 POUGHLUE EyON. 

These are the material foots from which the 
following- poem derives its existence. They 
were furnished to the author by his esteemed 
and worthy friend, Michael W. Ryan, Esq., to 
whom, as a mark of respectful courtesy, it ia 
dedicated, with the seal of friendship of 

P. C. T. B. 



PouGHLUE Eton. 147 

POUaHLUE EYON. 



A meadow'd mound on Ej^on's plain 

In classic grandeur deck'd the scene, 

And rear'd its head with lofty mien 

In proud defiance o'er the green. 

In ages past tradition gave 

A history to this shamrock'd hill, 

How Druidic gods, there sunk a cave, 

To light a subterran'an rill. 

Olympic-like, extolled in name, 

Its glories filled the nation's rhyme : 

The bards immortal flashed its fame 

Throughout the land, in every clime. 

The golden vale in mantled green. 

Like fairy lawns extending wide 

From its peaked summit, grand, serene, 

Was seen around on every side. 

Its Em'rald steeps bespangl'd o'er 

With daisies beautifying its hue, 

Gave it romantic looks which wore 

An aspect ever strange, and new. 

Large spreading oaks enthron'd their poise 

Around its lofty summit, and 



148 PouGHxuE Eton. 

Enhanc'cl its beauty with their size, 
Until the scene was truly grand. 
'Twas here the Druidic priests of yore 
Sang praises to the god of Baal, 
Whilst sages, bards and warriors bore 
Tradition's lore through camp and hall. 
The measur'd steps of chiefs and men, 
Were heard upon its summit high. 
When Sol's bright orient rays set in 
To golden the blue Eastern sky. 
Deep through this mound a chasm ran. 
With 3^awning dread, it opened wide — 
A wild romantic gap which man 
Had never dared within to hide. 
Its dark dread gaping depths, unknown. 
Were filled with fancied horrors wild. 
Where mortals once were basely thrown, 
Who dared to have their gods reviled. 
Its craggy edges moss'd with time 
Are shadowed over, whilst the breeze 
Yet, palls its myst'ries, nursed in crime,* 
By trembling shadows from the trees. 

* Whenever any of the inhabitants profaned the god of Baal, they 
were thrown into this poughlue, or cave, as a punishment of their 
disbeUef. 



PouGiiLUE Eton. 149 

Within engulfing depths below, 

A strange, blue mystic brook runs on, 

Commission'd by the gods to flow 

Into the deep, winding Shannon. 

Once in a time, e'er Ireland woke 

From paganism's slumbering spell, 

A vision of love's sweetness broke 

Through the lone solitude which fell 

Around the lonely, lowly cot. 

Where Eyon lived in days of yore, 

Beloved by gods, by men forgot — 

A stranger in his native shore. 

His parents lived in guilded halls. 

Where the broad Shannon's silvery tide 

Wash'd the strong butments of their walls. 

As it swept onward in its pride. 

For centuries untold they sway'd 

The country 'round, no other man 

Could have such strength, or force display'd, 

As could the chieftain of this clan. 

But a rude, savage, wand' ring race. 

Equipped, well-armed, filled the land, 

Their dreadful deeds soon left no trace 

Of this brave, gallant, pow'rful band. 



150 POUGHLUE EyON. 

When the drawn shades of sable night 

Encurtained nature with its hue, 

This fierce nomadic tribe's delight 

Was wild, when Eyon's hosts they slew. 

In one dread hour this bloody deed 

Of horrors red with streaming gore, 

Like vengeance blasted Eyon's seed — 

Proud scions of the land no more. 

A wild, dread, savage yell arose 

Above the Em' raid, golden vale. 

As from the reeking of death's throes. 

They left but two to tell the tale. 

These were the chieftain's younger son 

And his dear, ncAvly-wedded wite ; 

A couple who had scarce begun 

To realize a marriage life. 

The glories of new joys arose 

Before this happy, youthful pair, 

When, through those blood-stained foreign foes, 

They were shut out in dark despair. 

Wanderers from their peaceful home, 

Where bounty lavished golden store. 

They knew not where they dared to roam. 

Oppressed with wrongs, from comforts tore. 



POUGIILUE EyON. 151 

Tet mindful of the tender life 

That was entrusted to his care, 

Young Eyon battled brave through strife 

'Through cherished love for her, so fiiir. 

Within a craggy glen, secured 

I3y forest oaks, they built a cot; 

To hardships never yet endured. 

They settled down to bear their lot. 

'Twas here the hero of this tale 

Pirst opened his bright infant eyes, 

And learned of his parents wail 

With deep emotions of surprise. 

His father tilled a little lot 

Of table-land beside the glen. 

Determined that his home should not, 

Thouo'h rude, be lost to comforts, when 

Tlis loving wife and child were there, 

Dependent on his daily toil : 

He sought his work with anxious care. 

As if unmindful all the while 

Of the rude shock which blighted all 

The comforts of his youthful life. 

He only felt that in his fall 

He had to live for child and wife. 



152 PouGHLUE Eton. 

To boyhood's years the infant grew, 
His mother stored his mind with lore 
Until his master gen' us knew 
The languages and sci'nce before 
The sun of twenty summers lent 
Its golden smiles to warm his brow, 
Whilst yet his soul seemed ever bent 
To sword the wrongs he suffered now. 
One peaceful eve when Sol had waned 
His golden features from the West, 
E'er yet jDale Luna's rays had beamed 
With peaceful sweetness — lured from rest,. 
Young Eyon wander'd far beyond 
The confines of his lowly home ; 
In dreamy thoughts his spirit scanned 
New scenes he had not dared to roam. 
His soul was filled with raptures wild 
As childhood scenes his father knew, 
Described to him when yet a child, 
Before his fanci'd vision threw 
Their seasoned beauties of the past 
Around his troubled soul at last ; 
"Ah me !" he sighed, " this wooded lawn,. 
And yonder castle tow'ring high. 



PouGHLUE Eton. 15t^ 

"Were ours alone, until this spawn 
Of savage Normans, crowding nigh. 
Like a dread tempest swept the land, 
When peaceful slumber closed the eyes 
Of Eyon's proud unconquered band, 
Until, thus taken by surprise. 
You gods immortal, hear the pray'r 
Of the lone remnant of that race. 
Whose glories you were wont to share 
When shouts of triumph rent this place ; 
Nerve me with pow'r to meet the foe. 
In god-like action in this field 
Where my ancestors blood did flow. 
That I may make the tyrant yield." 
Thus had he pray'd on bended knees, 
When on the gentle zephyr's tide 
An angel's voice from yonder trees, 
Came borne with unconscious pride. 
Its rich soft cadence filled the plain 
With harmony, to him unknown. 
The gods themselves could not refrain 
From ecstasies wrought by its tone. 
His earnest, pray'rful voice was stilled. 
The vengeance which had primed his soul^ 



154 POUGHLUE EyON. 

]S"o more its deep recesses filled — 

That voice seemed destined to control. 

It lured him on with eager pace, 

Until he reached the fairy bow'r 

Where sat that nymph of Norman race — 

The daughter of that prince whose pow'r 

Arose when Eyon's hosts were slain, 

And left upon the tented plain. 

Within a latticed bow'r she lay 

Reclining on a rustic scat, 

A youth beside her full of play, 

With clapping hands her songs would greet. 

" One other one, dear lanno," 

Young Rudolph to his sister said, 

*'And I will keep as still, 3'OU know, 

As mamma says, when I'm in bed." 

^'This is the last then, Rudolph, say 

You will not ask me to sing more. 

The Irish ghosts may come this way — 

Papa said he saw 'em before." 

Scarce had she spoken when, behold! 

A shadow swept across the door. 

Her voice was still'd, her blood ran cold. 

As she stood trembling on the floor. 



POUGHLUE EyOX. 155 

Young Eyoii saw the shock he gave 

That lovely, tender maiden fair, 

Then anxiously inclined to save 

That innocent young happy pair. 

He stepped within the latticed bow'r 

And spoke in softest, kindest tone : 

* 'Sweet lovely maiden do not cow'r, 

I am like you — of flesh and bone — 

I would not hurt one golden hair 

Of those rare, precious locks so fine; 

No mortal could one moment dare 

Dishonor one pure look of thine. 

Enchanted by your voice, I came 

Across yon lovely spreading lawn, 

Eesistance for me had no claim. 

You would the gods themselves have drawn. 

How could I then forbear to see 

That lady of exquisite tone? 

I pray forgiveness now of thee, 

And I'll retire from here, unknown." 

He ceased to speak, his hazel eyes 

With looks of deep afi*ection bent, 

Awoke her from her strange surprise, 

Whilst to her cheeks, the rose-hue went. 



156 POUGHLUE EyON. 

The sun of eighteen summers still, 

With smiling sweetness warm'd her brow,, 

And hallow'd her blue eyes until 

Their lustre shone with rad'ance now. 

Her eyes a moment met his oAvn, 

That look was all, and yet it told 

Of sentiments of bliss, unknown 

To mortals wed to stores of gold. 

With blushes deep she tried to say : 

"Young man, I freely do forgive 

The motives Avhich led you this way — 

Go sir! begone! if you Avould live. 

My uncle comes this way. Oh! sir. 

He will not have excuses when 

He sees you here, he will infer 

That you're a spy from Irishmen ; 

He is no lover of your race. 

He would imprison and destroy 

Each Irishman found in this place, 

I pray good sir, hear me, fly! fly!" 

Her anxious look, her tender care 

Of him, so filled the young man's heart,. 

That he determined none should dare 

To make him play a cowardly part. 



PouGHLUE Eton. 157 

*' Fair lady, let me here remain, 

Your micle is already nigli — 

One cowardly act shall never stain 

My soul; here let me live, or die." 

Scarce had he ceased to speak when, lo! 

A chieftain of the Norman race 

With stern voice said: " lanno, 

How came this stranger to this place? 

Has he offended thee? if so — 

The sharpness of this sword shall feel 

His heart, and through its vitals go 

Until his life blood stains its steel." 

A dark frown settled in his look, 

And lit his eyes with evil glance, 

As if some demon's vengeance took 

Possession of his fiery sconce.* 

^' My uncle, pray look not thus fierce. 

This man has not insulted me ; 

No! no, your sword shall never pierce 

This young man's heart, let him go free." 

Thus spoke young lanno the fair. 

With supplicating hands between 

Her uncle and the stranger there — 

* Red hair. 



158 POUGHLUE EyON. 

Like some enchanted fairy queen. 

" Whence is this visit then? " he said, 

" What does his message here portend? 

No stranger shall these precincts tread, 

Unless he proves himself a friend." 

Two guardsmen summoned, quickly came,, 

And stood before the open door, 

The Norman chief then asked his name 

With a contempt which malice bore. 

His sneerinof frown and hau^^htv tone 

So filled young Eyon's sonl with fire. 

That he determined all alone 

To brave this man of savage ire. 

" Adrastus Eyon is my name, 

My sires had lived and owned this place,, 

The world-wide had known their fame. 

And I am of that honored race. 

No dark dishonored deed befonls 

Their graves dug by the strangers' hands ,, 

When fury swelled the savage howls 

Which rose above their murdered bands. 

Alone I stand here — three to one. 

No shining lance or blade I wield, 

But mortal man had never won 



PouGHLUE Eton. 1511 

That fame, which yet coiild make me yield. 
This lovely tender maiden's song- 
Entranced my heart with joys unknown, 
Unconsciously I came alonp:, 
Wrapt in the sweetness of her tone. 
Within this fairy bow'r she sat 
Eeclining on that rustic scat, 
My soul was so enamored that, 
I had determined to retreat 
Whilst Luna's orb was hid from view^ 
Behind yon fleecy murky cloud, 
When, suddenly it rising threw 
My shadow on the floor — a shroud- 
Ed corpse exhumed from yonder grave,. 
Could never chill the heart's control 
Of active pow'r, as thus I gave, 
Unconscious to the lady's soul. ^ 

Could I retire and leave her there 
A prey to fancied phantoms wild? 
My soul would not such actions share 
When I could quiet the maid and chihL 
I entered in, and briefly told 
The lady of my visit hen^ : 
My mission was not pelf, or gold, 



160 POUGKLUE EroN. 

But this young maiden's song to hear. 

Por this alone, I am subject 

To base insinuations now; 

Shall I be thus a vile suspect, 

And still, my manhood not avow? 

Ah! though your guards had filled the plain, 

I would assert myself as free ; 

The soul of cowardice I disdain, 

'Twas never yet in mine or me." 

** By the great gods your heart shall feel 

The strenofth of arm I command ; 

A Norman's sword your life shall steal, 

Thou minion of a worthless band. 

Go Ichius,* give him thy sword. 

In mortal combat to contend. 

This insolence I can't afford. 

He shall no longer here offend." 

The guard obeys his master's word, 

His short broad sword to him he gave, 

Then ey'ng him, said: "you'll not have stir'd 

From here, until you'll find your grave." 

" Hold babbler, forgo thy prate. 

Thy master's vaun tings I defy, 

* One of the guards. 



POUGHLUE EyON. 161 

No Norman, though however great, 
Can force me from the field to fly." 
Then turning towards the Norman chief, 
With proud defiance in his eye, 
He calmly said, " this will cause grief 
To that young lady standing by. 
Ijet us repair behind yon wall, ^ 
Where she cannot the combat see, 
Yet, for her sake, you shall not fall, 
Although I may a victim be." 
Hudolphus grinned with scornful laugh, 
As he addressing Eyon said • 
^'The gods their nectar shall not quaff 
Until my sword shall cleave your head." 
His haughty manner grieved the heart 
Of the pale, tender lanno. 
Who begged the stranger might depart 
Without be'ng thus molested so. 
With flashing eyes Eudolphus cried : 
^^ Your pleadings, madam, are in vain; 
Here Ichius, take this maid aside, 
Why does she in this place remain!" 
*' My father, sir," said lanno, 
*' Shall hear this insult offered me; 



162 POUGHLUE EyON. 

To him, with this young man Til go, 
He shall despite your ire go free." 
Ichius now advanced to take 
Young Rudolph, and the maid away, 
But Eyon, for the lady's sake. 
Caused him beneath her feet to lay. 
Oswald* then with drawn sword, 
Subservient to his master's word. 
Came forth, his honor to uphold; 
But he, too, found that he had err'd— 
With skill displaying a master s hand, 
Adrastus with unerring stroke. 
This other Norman had unmanned, 
When at the hilt, his sword he broke. 
Then, with one piercing look he said: 
*' Thy blood this cold steel shall not stain, 
If you are not by tyrants lead. 
This lady to insult again." 
Eudolphus seeing the humble plight 
Of his two guardsmen, thus did say 
With irony: "young man you might 
A thousand of my soldiers slay. 
I'll not seek here, now, for redress, 

* Another of the guards. 



PouGHLUE Eton. 163 

Nor shock my neice or nephew more, 
But you shall answer yet for this 
Before to-morrow's sun is o'er." 
"Agreed sir; I am not the man 
To harrow the young lady's soul, 
Nor shall one mortal — whilst I can — 
A single act of hers control. 
I'll go with you to meet the chief — 
The lady's father, though I die — 
His words alone shall bring belief 
Of what his thoughts of me imply." 
Thus Eyon spoke in manly tone, 
In princely aspect as he stood 
In that green ivy house alone, 
Contending against Norman blood. 
Young lanno with pallid face. 
Yet trembling like a lily leaf. 
Between the two still held her place 
With Kudolph trying to soothe her grief. 
Within his little hands her own 
In softest pressure were caressed, 
Whilst she would oftentimes stoop down 
To press him to her tender breast. 
At length her %ncle led the way 



164 PouGHLUE Eton. 

In company with Adrastus and 

The tender youth and maid, as they, 

Walked close beside them, hand in hand. 

The other two brought up the rear 

With straggling footsteps, slow, 

In deep unbroken silence near 

Their chieftain and his daring foe. 

** Here is our chief," Eudolphus said, 

*^ To him I bring thee at thy word, 

Or else my sword would soon have shed 

Thy blood before thou would'st have stirred." 

Eeginald, the warrior Norman sat 

On a large cushioned easy chair, 

Within a mirrored saloon that 

Seemed ablaze with chandeliers there. 

He looked a man of savage mien, 

A bushy beard, half brown and gray. 

As strong as any horse's mane. 

Stole nearly all his looks away. 

A man of fifty years he seemed, 

Of muscular appearance still. 

And though his eyes with passion gleamed. 

He showed an asiDCct ot o'ood will. 

*' If thou art chieftain of this pl^e," 



PouGHLUE Eton. 165 

Said Eyon calmly looking him, 

" I am one of a fallen race, 

Broil o'ht here through this man's idle whim. 

Of what offence I am accused,^ 

Let him who brought me here declare, 

And it your laws I have abused, 

Your judgments I shall calmly bear. " 

Rudolphus then with angry voice, 

Accused him as an Irish spy. 

Who tried to play a shrewd devise, 

And then when caught, now dares to lie. 

He then accused him, how he tried, 

With cunning words to play his part, 

By counterfeiting manners — pride. 

In trying to win his neice's heart. 

Eeginald grasped his dagger sword, 

W hilst vengeance burned in his eye ; 

" Villain! " he said, '' I can afford 

To hear you yet before you die." 

Fair lanno, with trembling hands 

Upraised before her father, said : 

Oh, sire! beloved of these broad lands, 

Let not this young man's blood be shed. 

He has committed no offence 



166 PouGHLUE Eton. 

Against your daughter, or your laws, 
See, father! see his innocence — 
Against him there is not one cause." 
Her hair in gol(^n ringlets fell 
Dishevelled on her snowy neck, 
Her heaving bosom seemed to tell 
The sorrow of some angel wreck. 
*' My daughter, why thus look so wild! 
If this young man has ought to say 
To prove his innocence, my child. 
He shall go free from here away." 
Her father pressed her to his heart. 
Her angel sweetness moved him now. 
Then with a love, which joys impart. 
He kissed her pale, young anxious brow. 
Young Eyon then imparted all 
The circumstances through which he 
Was led within this princely hall : 
Being thus deprived of liberty. 
Eeginald heard the young man out, 
Then turning to Eudolplius said, 
*' This man is innocent, no doubt, 
He seems to me to be well-bred; 
Conduct him to the castle hall, 



PouGHLUE Eton. 167 

Provide him bountiful to-night, 
To-morrow lanno shall call 
And lead him forth to freedom's light." 
Thus spoke the chief, young lanno 
With raptures kissed her father's lips. 
Her heart with greater ease beats slow, 
As from his love, her joys she sips. 
Adrastus seemed to think his soul 
Had wandered to some land of dreams 
Where magic charms life control, 
And love like golden sunshine gleams. 
Like one arising from a trance. 
Whose heart to virgin life awoke. 
He to the maiden did advance. 
As with expressive love he spoke : 
<* Fairest of mortal ladies, how 
Can I express my thanks to thee ! 
Eternal love, my. soul I vow 
Shall bless this cherished memory ; 
Not for my liberty I seek, 
My humble thanks here to avow, 
But for that soul, sublime, yet meek. 
Which sanctifies thy lovely brow." 
Then bowing before her father, he 



168 POUGHLUE EyON. 

Said: *'Sir! this courtesy you've shown, 
Shall never yet escape from me 
Until its seeds have fruitful grown." 
Thus say'ng, he gracefully retired, 
Led by Kudolphus to the hall, 
Where all the comforts he desired 
Were his, with servants at his call. 
These are thy quarters for the night. 
The Norman said with mocking tone. 
You can here, dream, to-morrow's light 
Will find you in a land unknown. 
Before young Eyon could reply, 
Kudolphus pass'd beyond the door. 
With vicious looks which might imply 
A savage thirst for human gore. 
Adrastus see'ng himself alone. 
Soliloquizing thus, began: 
** Where shall my parents think I've flown; 
Or who can cheer them whilst I'm gone. 
But yet to-morrow's sun shall shine 
Around our cot within yon glen. 
With golden love of light divine. 
When I'm restored to them again." 
Then rising to his feet he said : 



PouGHLUE Eton. 16^ 

" This Norman sword I got to-night, 

I'll lay beside me on this bed, 

It may be useful in a fight." 

Then with a prayer for lanno. 

He to his peaceful couch withdrew. 

Unconscious that his mortal foe 

Through a crevice held him in view. 

Eudolphus with a chuckle said : 

*' The hour of vengeance soon is mine, 

Dream on thou mortal in that bed, 

A cave of death shall soon be thine." 

Then with a stealthy step he stole 

To where his myrmidons had lain, 

'' Come on," he cried; '^ sleep holds control 

Of him who would our race disdain. 

He must be bound with seasoned cords. 

His blood shall not besmear the hall. 

Do not attempt to draw your swords, 

Eush in and seize him — one and all." 

Ten rustic, savage-looking men, 

By him selected, cat-like crept 

Around the couch, where peace had then 

Smiled on young Eyon as he slept. 

One moment they behold his face. 



170 PouGHLUE Eton. 

With eyes like demons glist'ning now — 
A virgin smile had left its trace 
Of sweetness stealing o'er his brow. 
Ah ! 'twas the smile which nursed his soul 
In sun-shine of maternal joy; 
A mother's love still held control 
Of her dear, only, lonely boy. 
But the rude savage fiend stood by, 
A monster of sage insolence, 
With malice burning in his eye, 
What cared he for such innocence ! 
They seized and bound him like a thief. 
Then with a conscious look of pride, 
They turned to their ribald chief 
Say'ng: " what shall to this man betide? " 
With a chilled, cowardly laugh, he said: 
*' In yonder hill there is a cave, 
Poughlue Eyon, let him there be led, 
'Twill answer for a pleasant grave." 
With shouts they led him up the hill 
Until they gained the craggy steep. 
Where Poughlue Eyon's shadows still 
From dreary depths of chasms leap. 
Into that gulf of horrors grim. 



ouGHLUE Eton. 171 

Which nought but dismal darkness knew, 
To please their chieftain's savage whim, 
This bloody band, young Eyon threw. 

The morning's sun found lanno 

As sweet as any flow'r could seem. 

Smiling with love, anxious to go 

Her Irish soldier to redeem. 

She scarce could wait her morning meal. 

So eager to depart was she ; 

She thought how lonely he would feel 

Until he gained his liberty. 

Then hurriedly, without escort 

She found herself at castle hall. 

But though she made an early start, 

Eyon was gone, before her call. 

With a sad, disappointed air, 

She paced the hall where he had been. 

Whilst yet another *lady fair 

Approached her, wondering at her mien. 

*'My dearest cousin, lanno 

What seems to prey upon your mind. 

Why! do you not Augusta know, 

Or would you have me think you're blind. 

* Augusta, the daughter of Rudolphus. 



172 PouGKLUE Eton. 

How is it that I find you here 

Within this castle hall alone, 

With countenance devoid of cheer, 

As if your friends were dead and gone? ' 

* 'Excuse me, dearest cousin mine, 

I came an noble soul to tree — 

A man for whom I would resign 

My life to gain his liberty. 

He is not here, I find him not. 

What did your father with him do? 

Tell me Augusta, have I got 

A faithful sister still in you? " 

*' My dearest lanno be calm, 

You know Augusta's heart alone. 

Would be my. lovely cousin's balm 

For ev'ry grief felt, and unknown. 

I heard my father speak of one 

Who seemed to be his guest last night ; 

Perhaps he'll tell you where he's gone. 

See, here he comes, look not so white." 

With courteous bow her uncle said : 

*' My lovely niece you have proved true, 

But see, that wily fox has fled. 

Unmindful of his vows to you. 



PoKGHLUE Eton. 173 

His touching eloquence last night 
Was playing a double traitor's part, 
To win your love, he thought he might 
Pind freedom through your tender heart. 
But now you see his base intent 
For all the clemency you've shown, 
Unconscious of your love, he went 
Filled with presumption of his own." 
*' Thus let it be my uncle then," 
Said she, with a deep heaving sigh, 
'*I cannot judge his actions when. 
Grave reasons might force him to fly.j' 
Thus saying, Augusta's hand she took, 
Whilst deep emotions still held sway 
Within her bosom, yet her look 
Seemed calmer as she went away. 
Together to the fairy bow'r 
Where she had seen him first they went, 
'' 'Twas here," she said, '' in a sad hour 
My heart felt cold at his advent, 
Eut with a sweet expressive tone. 
He chased my childish fears away. 
Oh! with such looks, as his, my own 
Dear Augusta, what could I say? " 



174 POUGHLUE EyON. 

" Forgive him; yes, I did forgive — 
He did not try to do me wrong, 
Dishonor could not in him lie, 
He only came to hear my song. 
And yet your father seemed to rave 
With some dread passion, uncontrolled, 
As if he took him for a knave 
Of complexed villainies untold." 
She then related what took place, 
With many child-like sighs of grief, 
As if they could her heart embrace, 
With tender hopes of love's relief. 
" My dearest cousin lanno. 
Why should you fret yourself for him? 
He is a stranger, you must know 
That this is but the merest whim." 
^* Then let this whim be ever mine, 
And though he be a stranger, yet 
A vision of such love divine. 
My memory never can forget." 
In converse thus they sat for hours, 
As if some magic sweetness there. 
Held them entranced amidst the flow'rs, 
Exhaling fragrance to the air. 



PouGHLUE Eton, 175 

A chill crept over Eyon when, 
They threw him down that chasm dread, 
As if his soul had left him then. 
To wear a golden crown instead. 
But when he felt the silent stream. 
Which flow'd five hundred feet below. 
He seemed to wander in a dream, 
Through mystic scenes of death and woe. 
He thought he saw the god of Baal 
Surrounded by immortal bands. 
As if they bore him in his fall. 
Uplifted on their spirit hands. 
With golden swords they cut away 
The bands which bound him as he fell. 
Whilst their looks, brighter than the day, 
Shone 'round that grim sepulchered cell. 
A life boat shaped with angel's wings. 
Surrounded by a brilliant light, 
Another ser'al spirit brings 
Before his now bedazzled sight. 
In this they oar'd him on the stream. 
Which to the grand old Shannon led ; 
Where with a smile of crystal gleam, 
The moon's rays softly lit its bed. 



176 PouGHLUE Eton. 

^Twas there the gods in solemn tone, 

Commissioned Eyon in their name, 

The tyrant stranger to dethrone. 

And all his own lost rights to claim. 

As if awakened from a trance. 

Which mystified his very soul. 

He seemed to grasp the magic lance, 

Through which he should assume control. 

With a determined purpose then. 

He sought his humble cabin home. 

His mother's sobs he heard within, 

As if she thought he'd never come. 

"^* You gods," she pray'd, " preserve my child, 

The only ofispring of his race — 

Where have they from my love beguiled 

My son, restore him to his place." 

His father having searched in vain, 

Eeturned to his lonely cot. 

As if to ease his burning brain 

Prom horrors which it seemed to plot, 

Eut when he saw his son within, 

Locked in his mother's fond embrace, 

A peaceful smile of love again 

Stole all the sorrow from his face. 



POUGKLUE EyON. 177 

Aclrastiis then imparled all 

The events which caused his delay, 

And how the gods, when in his fall, 

Preserved his life, and cut away 

The cords by which his limbs were bound. 

As they consigned him to the cave. 

Where those, despising the gods found. 

At Druidic hands, a dreadful grave. 

^' Thus was your son preserved," he said, 

^* From the barbarian's vengeful ire, 

As if arisen from the dead 

Eesponsive to the gods desire ; 

I come to wield, in Erin's name. 

The sword which hangs neglected now, 

To tear from the rude stranger's fame 

That pride which ill becomes his brow." 

With marveled looks his parents then 

Confessed to him their dreams divine, 

Wherein one loved by gods and men 

Would marshal warriors brave in line, 

And lead them on in grand array. 

Against that savage Norman band, 

Until their power and bloody sway, 

No longer cursed green Erin's land. 

12 



178 PouGHLUE Eton. 

The morrow found Adrastus in 
That grand old castle of McMore, 
Which once defied the power of men 
When Elim ruled the shamrock shore. 
His grandfiither received him well, 
And fitted out a gallant corps, 
With which he sought his native dell. 
His lost possessions to restore. 
His countrymen for miles around. 
Who feared this Norman, savage band^ 
Marched to his standard as they found 
A youth so brave who dared to stand 
Against the bloody tyrant foe. 
Who filled the land with every crime 
Which breathed horrors wild and woe. 
Foul off'springs of corruption's slime. 
Then with this army on the plain 
He pitched his tents, when sable night 
Hid all the grandeur of this train 
Within its dome of pale dim light ; 
But when the dawn of eastern sun 
Awoke the Norman chief, to day 
And saw what Irishmen had done. 
He called his brother in dismay, 



POUGHLUE EyON. 171) 

'* What does this mean? Ruclolphus, see, 
The plain below is filled Avith men, 
Go, call our soldiers instantly. 
Those Irishmen shall bleed again." 
Five thousand men in arms stood 
Before their chieftain in an hour. 
'* My warriors brave of Norman blood," 
He cried, '' We must assert our pow'r, 
Again our swords shall cleave the way 
To honor, victory and fame ; 
Before the sun sets on this day 
Yon host shall bite the dust in shame. 
One Irishman shall not escape 
The vengeance of our polished steel. 
This province with their dead we'll drape, 
Their hearts our trusty blades shall feel." 
Thus had he spoken, when there came 
A horseman, plumed with green, in view, 
Who thus addressed the chief by name, 
*' Reginald, I am sent to you. 
Commissioned by our chief to say 
That all your rights and titles here 
Belonged to his old sept alway, 
His undisputed claim is clear ; 



180 POUGHLUE EyOX. 

From hence you may retire in peace 
If you resign to him his own, 
But if resistance gives you lease 
Of brighter hopes, lead your troops on." 
Reginald, with a haughty sneer, 
Made answer, '' to your master fly; 
Tell him the Normans know not fear 
They live to conquer, not to die." 
When Eyon heard the chief's reply 
He called his gallant aids to him, 
" The Normans," said he, '' doth defy 
Our pow'r, we now shall humble them ; 
Prepare, brave, valiant men, your clans. 
To-day we march to victory. 
The god of battle nerves our hands 
Our country from her foes to free. 
We might avenge our wrongs last night, 
The same as they had done before, 
But we will teach those tyrants right, 
And thereby humble them the more. 
When Eyon's god lights up the vale 
And looks upon our gallant band. 
That is the time for woe or weal, 
To strike for our dear native land; 



PouGHLUE Eton. 181 

And now, that god looks brightly down 
To bless our arms with his light, 
Let his bright rays our glory crown : 
Charge, onward, breast the foe in fight." 
Three thousand men with one wild cheer 
Eesponsive to that youth's command, 
Rush'd to the contest without fear, 
As they encounter'd, hand to hand. 
The fiery Normans on the plain. 
All eager for the bloody fray, 
As tigers nursing hunger's pain, 
Awaiting with fierce looks their prey. 
Reginald led the vanguard host. 
Although a man of senior years 
His valor was the purchased boast 
Of an unconquer'd tribe, whose cheers 
Like pealing thunder shook the land 
When his proud crest waved in the air. 
Thus did this suro-inof foreio^n band 
Eush on his war-like deeds to share. 
Rudolphus headed the right wing. 
Although a moral coward was he. 
Yet thinkino^ what defeat would brino^ 
He now charged with wild bravery. 



182 PouGHLUE Eton. 

Young EyoD on the other side, 

Assisted by Donald McMore, 

Like Jove's great sun in war-like pride, 

Led on the gallant Irish corps. 

Li fierce contending ranks they met — 

Their clashino: arms rent the air, 

Whilst death in dismal horrors set 

His seal in mortals falling there. 

TAvice the Irish ranks were seen 

To waver in that dreadful fight 

'Till Eyon with his plume of green. 

Like an avenging mars in sight, 

Felled all Avho met him in the van. 

Then rallying, at his power display 'd, 

This little army to a man 

Shot death from every bloody-blade. 

The Normans terror stricken fled, 

Their chieftain sounded the retreat; 

His brave invincibles lay dead 

In thousands 'round his horse's feet. 

Back to his castle still pursued, 

The haughty chieftain and his men 

Were driven, when, the fight renew' d 

With more determined rao-e ao-ain. 



PouaHLUE Eton. 183 

liuclolphus with his column met 

The advance of the enemy, 

And though their ranks were broken, yet 

They stood the charge with bravery. 

Adrastus Eyon seeing his foe, 

With fury in his youthful eye. 

Made lanes of death with every blow, 

Until he, to that chief drew nigh. 

Then, thus addressing him, he said: 

•" Behold, thou bloody Norman fiend, 

The young man whom you thought lay dead 

In yonder cave, by you demeaned. 

In contest let us here decide 

To whom belongs the victory, 

And may the rest in peace abide 

When time 's no more, for you or me." 

In dreadful conflict not before, - . - ■ 

Had such contending heroes *met. 

Their steeds, like Pegasus of yore, 

Seemed winged with active movements, yet 

Their riders fouHit with cautious care, 

As if their very actions told 

Those movements of their horses there, 

Were feats of trained instinct of old 



* Rudolplius, though a coward at heart, jet, on this occasion, dis- 
played extraordinary corn-age, and was unquestionably a bra^ e man 
wh6ri forced to fight. 



184 PouGHLUE Eton. 

Which warriors nursed with watchful zcal^ 
In colts designed for war alone 
Until they were brought up to feel 
The goaded spur to lead them on. 
Rudolphus, with a warrior's skill, 
Watched all the movements of his foo^ 
And met his every thrust, until 
His helmet with one clashinof blow 
Fell severed from his head in two : 
Then like a coward paled with fright - 
From the dread conflict there he flew 
And saved himself by wretched flight. 
Reginald seeing his brother fly, 
And all his bloody clan dismay 'd, 
With vengeance lighting in his eye, 
Broke, with a mighty oath, his blade— 
" Thus let this contest end," he cried, 
" The coward who would demean his race- 
Shall feel 'twas better he had died. 
Than live and purchase his disgrace." 
A few brave soldiers, faithful yet, 
All, ready to obey his Avord, 
Hung 'round their chieftain with regret, — 
His heart touched by their love, was stirred 



PouGHLUE Eton. 185 

" Soldiers," he said, " your vanqiiish'd chief 

His grateful thanks to you extends 

This pledge ot love, more than his grief 

Within his heart is felt, my friends. 

Had all my men like you been true, 

Our banner now should proudly wave — 

But like a dastard horde they flew 

And left us a dishonor'd o-rave." 

" Not from tlie victor," Eyon said. 

As he, approaching, heard the chief, 

Then standing with uncover'd head, 

He eased the old man's piquant grief, 

** Thou bravest of the Norman race," 

Said he, '* This victory of mine. 

Which the great god of Baal did grace. 

Shall not dishonor thee, or thine. 

Although my royal father's lands 

Were long, unjustly held by you, 

Yet in this hour when peace commands, 

I should not to myself be true 

Could I forget, brave, generous chief. 

Your daughter's kindness, and your oAvn, 

When you profFer'd me relief. 

Although it was not after, shown." 



186 PouGHLUE Eton. 

The chieftain heard the vouno* man's words, 

Whilst the tears glistened in his eyes: 

*' This is," said he, " more than yonr swords 

To me a far greater snrprise ; 

Brave, generous youth, thou art indeed, 

An honor to your country's fame — 

And though a dark and bloody deed 

Surrounds the lustre of my name, 

Yet in the slaughter of your race, 

No active part had I, or knew. 

That such a massacre took place. 

Until I gleaned the facts from *you. 

In my own native land I held 

A princely title and full sway, 

'Till by a tyrant king expelled. 

As I could not base laws obey. 

jNly brother and my vassals all 

Equipped, sailed over to your isle. 

In conquest bent, or else to fall 

And lie beneath your fertile soil. 

To Albion, I fled at night. 

My clans alone knew where I went 



* When Eyon was taken before Reginald, on the night of his first 
meeting Avith his daughter lanno. it was then that Reginald was in- 
formed from the hps of his prisoner of the massacre of his entire race. 



PouGHLUE Eton. 187 

'Twas there I heard with orreat clelio^ht 

From the young man my brother sent, 

That he had conquered Erin's pride, 

The bravest chieftain in that land, 

Whose sokhers all, fell by his side 

A loyal, powerful, gallant band. 

In language of expressive love, 

He bid me hasten to your shore. 

When peace and pow'r should always prove 

My best companions evermore. 

Thus had he pictured all to me, 

And how he gained immortal fame — 

When, a stranger to your country 

Dismembered from my own I came." 

Young Eyon's heart was filled with cheer 

As he clasped the warrior's hand. 

Saying, " Of that massacre you're clear. 

And though a stranger in this land 

Your every comfort shall be mine. 

To guard with honor as a son. 

Until that noble soul of thine 

j&hall gain immortal glories wan. 

Your tender son and daughter fair. 

That lady whom I love alone^ : ^ 



188 PouGHLUE Eton. 

Their princely father's home shall share 

In yonder castle now your own." 

In conversation thus they spoke 

Until they reached the castle gate, 

When a loud wail on their ears broke — 

The inmates fear'd some dreadful fate 

Would be their lot, as they beheld 

The Irish soldiers marchino- throusfh 

Its portals, but their chieftain quelled 

Their fears as he approach'd in view. 

His daughter and his only son 

Fell on his neck and wept aloud ; 

Their tender love for him had won 

The praises of that surging crowd. 

Their uncle told them as he fled 

That all was lost, and death would be 

The path through which the victor led 

His army, 'till avenged was he, 

So thoroughly was he impressed 

By the dread issues of the day — 

That with his family oppressed 

With grief, he wouldn't for one moment stay, 

So tenderly was lanno 

Impressed with her dear father's care. 



PouGHLUE Eton. 189 

She had not seen, nor did she know, 

That Eyon was beside her there 

With deep emotions looking on 

Her pale, young, tender, anxious brow, 

Trying to hide the tears she won 

With all a child's affection now. 

But when her father kissed away 

The tears which trembled on her eyes. 

And pointed to where Eyon lay. 

She looked at him with strange surprise ; 

She knew not what to say or do. 

Her throbbing heart could tell alone 

The feelings which inspired anew 

The love she dared not how to own. 

Young Eyon felt embarassed too. 

He knew not but she would repel 

Her father's captor, if she knew 

That it was by his hand he fell ; 

Had he not swept her father's power 

Forever from the land away, 

And left her in this very hour. 

To all a captive's ills, a prey. 

Those thought «i had crowded in his mind ; 

He felt her anofuish in his soul. 



190 POUGHLUE EyON. 

And though she might yet think him kincl^ 
How could he in her grief condole, 
When he alone had wrecked the joy 
Which courted her young happy years ; 
How could she love one who 'Id destroy 
The peace which happiness endears. 
Thus had he reasoned in his mind, 
Whilst lookino' at the o^rief and woe 
Which seemed the chieftain's heart to bind 
In sorrow to young lanno; 
When in his seemino^ reverie 
He heard Reginald call his name. 
Then, with grave, modest courtesy 
He introduced him to the dame, 
" This is my daughter, Eyon," he said. 
He knew that they before had met — 
But seeing that they had yet delayed 
Those friendly greetings which beget 
True social feelings which impart 
The friendship wove in memory — 
He read the feelings of each heart 
And thus effaced their misery — 
With head uncovered Eyon stood, 
As he reached out to her his hand. 



POUGIILUE EyON. 191 

His looks expressed a widowhood 

Of joys bereft, he could not stand. 

His agitated heart was felt 

In that soft pressure which he giive — 

Whilst her deep mine of young love's wealth 

Her own expressive soul misgave. 

" Sweetest lady," said he, " allow 

The young man whom you did befriend, 

His more than thanks here to avow 

To you, with memories fond which lend 

A hallowed peace of bliss and love 

Around the influence of his soul 

Like angels ministering above , 

Where joys immortal minds control." 

The softest ray of sunshine smile 

Stole sweetly o'er her virgin brow 

And chased the cloud of grief the while, 

Which seemed to linger round it now. 

*' Your thanks, dear sir," she answered, " are 

Accepted, let the past remain 

Obscured in silence, Avhy thus mar 

Your triumph with one thought of pain." 

She bit her lip in sorrow when 

The sting she gave passed through his soul, 



192 PouGHLUE Eton. 

But he, the victor, and his men 

There, held her father in control. 

How could she in her heart confine 

The sorrow of her father's grief, 

Althouofh her love mio-ht underline 

Her very life, for that young chief — 

Confused at her pointed reply, 

He felt her sorrow all the more, 

His love, his pride seemed to defy 

Althouerh he thouoiit its influence o'er. 

*' Madam," he said, " your father's grief 

With you in sympathy I share. 

And though my triumph here is brief 

It must not wound thee, lady fair." 

" Dear lanno," her father said, 

*' This brave young man we must not blame; 

Had I my former power, instead 

Of being estranged from where I came, 

I would feel honored to have known 

This gallant son of Erin's Isle, 

Who has but justly claimed his own, 

Although in royal princely style, 

He has bestowed with generous heart 

This castle and domain to me, 



PouGHLUE Eton. 193 

Here, with your father still thou art, 
And little Eudolph, too, with *thee. 
But here we must not linger on, 
Let us into the castle go ; 
■Come, lanno, and you, my son. 
Dispell your gloomy thoughts of Avoe." 
That evening and the night were spent 
In social bliss and harmony. 
Whilst Eyon's happy tparents lent 
Their presence to the company. 
In spacious halls the soldiers too. 
The social glasses seemed to share 
Unmindful of their brothers who 
Eell in that dreadful battle there. 
All quaffed, and ^chatted merrily — 
In mythful glee time stole along 



* These were the only two members left, of a family of a wife and 
■eight cliildren. 

+ Adrastus Eyon, early in the evening, withdrew from the party 
to his own home and induced his parents, after giving them a detailed 
account of the battle, to go with iiim to the castle on that occasion, 
Tvhich they cheerfully did, and enjoyed the event with pleasure. 

X The Norman and Irish soldiers enjoyed themselves together in 
the same halls, and, strange as it may seem, they discussed the events 
•of the day without any diiftculty arising between them to mar the 
social harmony of the occasion. The Irishmen were instructed by 
their young leader, Eyon, not in any case to have any difficulty with 
the strangers, "who," he said, " in trying to speak what little they 
knew of the Irish tongue, might be led to say something they them- 
selves, could not understand." The reader must be aware, that, for 
the last twenty-two years in the country, they had learned something 
of the language. Thej^ accordingly discussed matters with the Irish 
soldiers on this occassion, in their native Gaelic. 
13 



194 POUGKLUE EyON. 

Whilst music and the revelry 

AYere blended in the voice of song. 

Adrastus, lionized by all, 

Too modest to receive their praise, 

With lanno, stole from the hall — 

Then with a courteous smile, he says,. 

" Let us retire to yonder boAv'r 

Where we before as strangers met; 

Ah! lanno, that happy hour! 

I never shall, or can forget. 

My soul entranced with joys unknown. 

Since then, has nnrsed its sweetness well;- 

That heart would be as cold as stone 

Could it one happy thought repell." 

" How can you thus," said lanno, 

" Allow your fancies to beget 

Illusions which may come and go 

Like sun-shine on the rivulet — 

If one kind thought had smiled Avithin 

The peaceful sweetness of your heart, 

Why did you leave on that night, when,. 

]My uncle played a jailer's part?" 

Within the bow'r he told her how 

Her uncle tried to end his life, 



PouGHLUE Eton. 195 

And why tlie gods made him avoAv 

Himself, to bring about the strife. 

'' Thus was I forced," said he, " to take 

My exit from my lady friend, 

And though my heart cannot bespeak 

My love for her, could I attend 

Her kind ministrations then. 

When forced away by savage men. 

Ah, lanno ! although it may 

Seem strange the way we first have met, 

And stranger still, how on this day, 

When that dread conflict shadows yet 

The peaceful sweetness which alone 

Should bless the lover's heart Avith joy, 

That we again should meet: I own, 

This is an incident which I 

Cannot divine, or understand, 

Yet never was a heart so true 

In this or any other land 

Than that, which beats in me, for you. 

And though I should not now avow, 

This love which fills my very soul : 

Yet in this place I cannot now 

Its rising impulses control." 



196 POUGHLUE EyON. 

"Adrastus, though I must confess 
The void occasioned in my heart, 
Not being aware of your address 
When on that night you did depart ; 
Yet circumstances now arise 
Which place me in a lowly sphere ; 
Not in a strano^er's sad disfi^uise 
Can I such declarations hear." 
" Dear lanno, how can you thus, 
When you are not averse to me, 
Forbid me such bliss to discuss 
Which binds my heart and soul to thee. 
Ah ! smite not sweetest lady fair, 
The life of one who would resign 
The pleasures of this earthly sphere 
To live in one pure thought of thine. 
If you but bid me hope and live, 
I shall grow happy in your smile ; 
Oh! say you will m}^ past forgive 
And memorize my love a while ! 
I know your tender heart may yet 
Bestow that happiness to me. 
Ah ! dearest, let my love beget 
But one sweet ray of hope in thee ! " 



POUGHLUE EyON. 11)7 

*' I could not try, no matter what 

Reverses were in store for me, 

To deny the influence that 

Arises in my soul for thee. 

And if my future years commend 

A prospect worthy of your name. 

Then, if you love me still, my friend. 

None other can this poor heart claim." 

With a devotion love alone 

Could only feel or manifest, 

He joyfully exclaimed, " my own! " 

Then, strained her to his manly breast, 

A lover's kiss sealed on her brow. 

The sweetness of his ecstasy — 

His very soul seemed to avow 

Its purpose of sincerity; 

And thouo'h he bowed to her decree 

To wait the time she would bestow 

Her hand to him, yet happier he 

Clung closer to his lanno. 

Back to the feast again they went. 

Together Avith true, conscious pride, 

Our hero happy and content 

Leading his sweet, expectant bride. 



198 PouGHLUE Eton. 

The soldiers cheered them as they came 
Into the banquet hall in view — 
There, youth and beauty, pride and fame. 
Seemed centered in those very two. 
Throughout the night the rank and iile 
Enjoy'd the feast 'till dawn of day, 
And thouofh *Auo'usta felt the while 
How mean her father skulked away — 
Still, in her company McMore 
A chatty, loved companion met; 
And like a prince himself he bore. 
Until he parted Avith regret — 
But as he bid her the good-bye 
She sweetly told him, call again — 
The sparkle in her deep blue eye 
Exposed her untold love w^ithin. 
Young Eyon and his parents too, 
Together with his soldiers all. 
To Eeginald bid peaceful adieu. 



* Augusta and her mother, the daughter and wife of Rudolphus, 
were at the banquet on that evening hy special request of Reginald, 
and introduced to young Eyon, who then introduced them to 
McMore, his first and bravest officer. Augusta was charmed with 
his princely bearing and manner, and so delighted him in return 
that he became completely enamored of her. And, although she 
felt the odium that must be cast upon her father at his disgraceful 
and hasty flight, yet she felt relieved from her embarrassment under 
the cultured care of McMore. to whom she was afterwards married 
when her father returned to Inland . 



POUGHLUE EyON. 199 

-And marched away from Castle Hall, 
To that old ^mansion which had been 
The home of his dear parents when 
Life's " honey-moon," they did begin — 
He led them, and his gallant men. 
'Six months had scarcely passed away 
When Castle Hall, illnmined again 
With brilliant lights, and grand display 
'Of ladies fair, and gentlemen 
With courtly pomp and royal style 
In that old castle, all aglow — 
Young Eyon of green Erin's isle 
Was wedded to his lanno. 
Another happy couple, too, • 
Linked with the golden chain of love. 
The marriage ceremony went through — 
Their mutual joys of bliss inwove 
The deep affections which impressed 
The sweetness of peace evermore, 
Within the loving, happy breast 
Of fair Augusta and McMore. 

* Aftei' Adrastvis Eyon bid adieu to lanno and her father, he led 
his soldiers and parents to a grand old stately mansion on the banks 
■of the Shannon, from which his father was driven twenty-two years 
^go when the Norman invaders massacred, in cold blood, all the 
■other members of that illustrious family. 



200 PouGHLUE Erox. 

Another king* had ruled the throne 
Of that old land ol Normandy 
Who restored Eeginald to his own 
Possessions in that country. 
A golden future, full of fame, 
And sweet ecstatic bliss smiled on 
That gallant hero, whose proud name, 
Is memorized in Poughlue Eyon. 

* When Rudolphus quit the field of battle, aftei* his signal defeat 
by Adrastus Eyon. he was so completely demoralized on account of 
his former wickedness, that he left the country in disgrace, without 
scarcely bidding his family good-bye. In the disguise of a harper he 
visited his own land, and "found access to the young king, who was 
but a few months previously placed on the throne of his fathers. 
To him, after he impressed him with the sweetness of his music, he- 
told the story of his wrongs; and how he, together with his brother- 
Reginald, were driven from their possessions and forced to fly to a 
foreign land. 

After the young Monarch had carefully listened to his story, he^ 
restored him to all his lost rights, and directed him to go after his 
brother to Erin. It was onl.y when this announcement was made to- 
her father, by Rudolphus on his return, although she loved Eyon with 
a passionate love, that she consented to become his wife. 

Her father, before his departure for his native home, and 
Rudolphus, who was now forgiven for his formei- treachery, blessed 
their union, as they did also that of Augusta and McMore, who werfr 
married at the castle on the same night. 

It is needless to sa3^ that the fruits of this matrimonial alliance 
linked together the affections of those famihes in mutual peace and 
harmony, and that a friendly intercourse for a long time after- 
existed between the two nations. 



MISCELLANEOUS. 



:202 INIlSCELLANEOUS. 

WASHINGTON'S TOMB. 



The cypresses waving in grand ancient glory 
OroAv silently over the tomb of the brave, 
And bear in their sombre impressions, the story, 
Of national love, in the home of the grave. 
L(ike sentinels weeping the nation's long loved 

one. 
The grandest of heroes that natnre has known ; 
They bend lowly over the nrn, where lay on 
The last mortal relics of immortal's own. 

The ever o-reen bouo'hs of the cedar hano^' over 
The tomb Avhere onr father of libert}^ lies, 
And hide in their splendor ot emerald cover 
The citizen soldier whose name never dies ; 
The halloAved affections of sweetness entwine 
'Konnd immortal Hories enwreathino^ his fame 
And gloriously guard all the virtues sublime 
Which shine through the grandeur and pow'r 
of his name. 

The forest oaks rising in old regal splendor, 
ICntomb in their shadows, our Washinofton's 
tomb, 



Miscellaneous. 203 

Like proud crested monarclis, all anxiously 

tender 
To grace with their presence the deep hallow- 
ed gloom, 
A still, solemn silence eternally sleeping 
Within his lone, encurtained, grave forest 

home, 
In awful majesty companions its keeping 
With impressive grandeur, -beneath heaven's 
dome. 



HELEN'S GEAYE. 



Whilst Luna was shining through the darkness 

of night, 
And the pale stars were twinkling with their 

silv'ry light, 
I arose from my pillow and silently stray' d 
To the grave, where my Helen untimely was 

laid. 



204 Miscellaneous. 

I gaz'd on the liead-stoiie 'till the tears made 

me blind 
To think my beloved one I no longer could 

find , 
Overpowerd Avith emotion my heart seemed to 

break 
As I anxiously called on my Helen to speak. 

Oh! why did you leave me, my beloved one 

alone, 
When life is insipid and I live but to moan, 
Should your ghost hover round me then sweet 

angel sprite. 
Let me live for an hour once again in your 

sio'ht. 

How dear was that moment, when my love I 
first spoke. 

What sweet nightly visions through my slum- 
bers broke 

Like a stream undisturbed gliding fast to the 
sea, , 

Were my days of affection, Avhen spent love 
with thee. 



Miscellaneous. 205 

But, alas ! I have lived to behold thee no more 
Yet, thy image remains in my heart's inmost 

core, 
Like a pilgrim I'll Avander each lone hill and 

dale 
And at night in my dreams I shall weep thy 

sad tale. 



THE KEPUBLIC OF THE WEST. 



^o nation ever proudly rose 
To eminence and fame, 
Where freedom's holy claim 
Was gained from freedom's foes, 
Than the Republic of the West 
Where peaceful nature smiles to rest. 

No country on this earthly sphere 
With grander prospects can appear 
To bless a nation's peaceful love 
With God's own blessings from above, 
Where majesty supremely grand. 



206 Miscellaneous. 

Triumphantly walks hand in hand 
With freedom's goddess, fitting mates 
For these £:reat famed United States. 

Despotic monarchs find no place 
There, to erect a bloody throne, 
No kingly power through God's grace 
Such false assertions there can own. 
Those thoughts of superstitious pow'r, 
Too long expressed in ages past. 
Are fancies wild, estranged from our 
Which manhood's rights shall ever blasts 

The glory of Grod's love, divine. 

Transmitting life to man. 

Impressed his soul with thoughts sublime^ 

When manhood's years began. 

The stamp of that eternal right 

In proud Columbia's shore. 

Shall show its dazzlino- brilliant lio-ht 

Throuo'h ao-es evermore. 

And though ambitions wild may school 

Some upstart to forget, 

The principles of freedom's rule, 



MlSCELLAKEOUS. 2()I 



In be'ng a monarch yet — 

We'll wipe the fool's desires away 

With freedom's bold behest, 

And teach him to bow down, obey, 

The New Rome of the West. 



I FEAE I SHALL DIE AN OLD MA J I). 



I fear I shall die an old maid. 
My young days are tast taking wing- 
When lonely I walk on the glade, 
Of sweet love, and Hymen, I sing; 
At night, on my pillow I lay — 
Sleepless, without ease or rest: 
Discoursing of marriage all day 
Enkindles a flame in my breast. 

My passions I try to subdue. 
But, ah! like the waves of the deep, 
They follow each other anew, 
And break on my mind as I sleep : 
The pathways of love I traverse. 
Where numbers of beaux I can see : 



208 Miscellaneous. 

I sing to them rhyme and blank verse, 
They seem to look kindly on me. 

And often I'm called on to play, 
When papa brings guests home to dine ; 
^' Her music is charming," they say. 
Yet, each thinks, she 's old to be mine. 
Alas ! how oft have I numbered 
The thirty long summers I Ve seen ; 
Eeck'ning my years, I'm incumbered, 
Why did I not wed at fourteen? 



DINGLE BAY. 



Beneath a clear sky, in a green lovely island. 

Dame nature resides, her bright scenes to dis- 
play, 

The astounding gods of the high topped Olym- 
pus, 

Ne'er ^^az'd on such beauties, as mark Dingle 
Bay, 

The wild breakers rush from the foaming At- 
lantic, 



Miscellaneous. 209 

Winding impetuously without delay, 

Till majestic cliffs raise their spray to the 

zephyrs, 
To kiss the fresh breeze, which blows 'round 

Dingle Bay. 
The responding echoes, resounding the notings 
Of the feather'd warblers, whilst passing along, 
Xfike magic deluding the judgment of reason. 
The meandering waters each note still prolong. 
The blythe, merry laugh of the youthful 

admirers 
Is hushed, whilst the voice of the sages doth 

say: 
The finger of God here, has painted a model. 
For beauty surpassing surrounds Dingle Bay. 



TO MY WIFE, ON HER 30th BIRTHDAY. 



The tide of youth may steal away, 
As yeais roll o'er thy brow. 
And soirow for thy loved ones may 
Thy heart's fond wishes plow ; 



210 MiSCELL A^^ EOUS . 

But time or sorrow never can, those calm, mild 

looks destroy, 
Love, virtue, grace and innocence, companions 

of thy joy. 

A soul like thine, so pure, so mild-— 

'Tis sweetness nursing grace. 

The image of the little child 

Who walks before God's fiice. 

The dimpling beauties of thy smiles ire like 

the sunny beams. 
Playing with the silent ripplings of the purest 

crystal streams. 



THE ECCENTRICITIES OF DAVID REIDY. 



A youthful student, lirst, we find 
In little Mr. Keidy, 
He grew in logic undefined, 
Until his mind got seedy. 

He master'd sci'nce, so people say. 
Yet some are prone to doubt it| 



Miscellaneous. 211 

He takes old rye instead of tay (tea). 
Although quite well without it. 

He factors fractions quite as well 
As when he whipp'd the childer — 
On fractions though, he cannot dwell, 
His brain they soon bewilder. 

As pedagogue, he floiuish'd once, 
Although his diction 's funny : 
Yet none could dare pronounce him dunce ^ 
His eyes appear so cunny. 

He 's never angry, but times, 
His jaws expand with rage : 
At " forty-five" he bets his dimes, 
And quotes each gambling sage. 



TO MISS MOLLIE V. KAIN, ON HER 
SIXTEENTH BIRTHDAY. 



Sweet rising star of womanhood, 
What brilliancy is thine? 



212 Miscellaneous. 

Enthroned in innocence and grace 

Lil^e angels looks, divine. 

The peaceful hope of modesty 

Sits calmly o'er thy brow, 

There let it rest through future years, 

Dear child, as well as now. 

The blushing rose which decks yon bow'r, 

When vernal spring has flown, 

Assimilates that rosy tinge 

Which nature calls thine own. 

Those smiles which play with dimples soft, 

Like sunbeams 'round thy face — 

May they illume thy tender life, 

Dear child, in every place. 



MY MOTHER'S GRAVE I MOURNINQ 
SOUGHT. 



My mother's grave I mourning sought. 
No bosom friend was nigh, 
But memories of absent days 
Renew'd each tender si^h. 



Miscellaneous. 213 

A weeping willow marked the spot 
Where imdisturVd she slept; 
My heart to fil'al love succumb' d, 
In bitter strains I wept. 

The grass grew long above her head, 
That face I looked with joy, 
Beneath the earth is mouldered now, 
Why mother, did you die? 

In pensive mood I listen'd for 
The hearing of her voice. 
As if the dead could answer me ! 
And make my heart rejoice. 

I plucked the ilow'rs, yet wet with dew. 
And strew them on her g-rave — 
That offering of innocence, * 

To her, with tears I gave. 



214 Miscellaneous . 

ON THE DEATH OF THE EIGHT REV. 
THOMAS FOLEY, D. D. 



From Grocl's own fold, where majesty 

Enthroned m christian grace. 

Bows down in adoration meek 

Before the Savior's face : 

A shepherd, sanctified in love — 

A priest of the most high, 

Is called to wear his crown above, 

Where saints hosannas cry. 

In charity, sweet peace, and faith. 

His honored life was spent : 

His language was the word of Grod — 

That Grod to whom he went. 

The love of truth and innocence, 

Was nursed within his breast. 

And like an angel's smile, from hence. 

It coaxed him to his rest. 

His voice is heard no more on earth. 
But yet, its solemn tone 
Shall vibrate like the vesper-bell 
Throuo'h hearts where Grod is known. 



Miscellaneous. 215 

The churcli bells tolled in measured tones, 
His life on earth was run — 
The last words spoken through his moans 
Were, ** Grod, thy will be done! " 



THE OLD BACHELOES. 



Behold the chagrin faces 

Of men advanced in years, 

IVho gaze on pretty laces 

On smiling little dears : 

They're shocked to see, they're shocked to know 

That women are so vain, so, so! — 

Old bachelors, discarded men. 
Filled with the thoughts of faded bloom, 
Declare it is the wise man's "boom" 
To keep aloof from marriage, when, 
Within their minds, their passions swell. 
To think the^^'re left alone to dwell. 

When at the the'tres they behold, 
The young, the beautiful, the old, 



216 Miscellaneous. 

Their hearts are filled with caustic spleei!;^ 
Whilst gazing on that human scene — 
Then, criticising they express 
Their notions of each lady's dress. 

And if the play has ought of love, 
Those ministers who look above 
With holy visions in their eyes, 
In prayer to God beyond the skies, 
Could never picture men as well 
As those who are lett alone to dwell. 

Yet in such quarters where love scenes — 
And if they could, behind the screens: 
They 're always found in foremost places 
With grins like gaping graves, their faces 
Admiring all with vain delight. 
You o'ods immortal what a sio^ht ! 



ALL-FOOLS' DAY. 



All-Fools' Day, as some display 
The mocking whims of foolish play. 



Miscellaneous. 217 

Theii social schemes, like happy dreams, 

Impress the mind with jov, which seems 

To steal their thoughts from thoughtful care^ 

Surrounded by the toils of strife, 

And nurse those pleasures wild which wear 

An innocence of foolish life. 

From years mow'd down by Timi^s dread 

scythe 
Into the dark, eno-ulfing past. 
The story wings its magic pride, 
Kor yet disdains to move aside, 
But clings to old traditions fast, 
When men of sense, as senseless too?,y 
Of sentimental jokes, were fools. 

The laughing crowds all gape and grin 
When some device of boys or men, 
Ingeniously is play'd upon 
Some thoughtful, yet unconscious one, 
Who passing through the jolly crowd- 
Is hailed, "Fool! fool! " in accents loud., 
In jokes of var'ous kinds the day 
In peaceful mirth is passed away. 



218 Miscellaneous. 



LINES WEITTEN AT THE KEQUEST OF 
ONE OF THE MEMBEUS OF THE ST. 
CECILIAN MUSICAL SOCIETY OF 
ST. COLUMBA'S SCHOOL. 



Sweet music, heavenly voice enthroned 
In love divine, thy hallowed tone 
Enraps the soul in raptures wild, 
As if its strains were bliss alone. 
Cecilia, dear patron saint. 
Of sweetest melody divine. 
Entranced in fondest wishes told 
We bow before thy sacred shrine. 

Entrancing ecstasies untold 

Of music sweet, long honored, sung 

Like memories fondly which unfold 

The peaceful joys, which round thee hung. 

To thee we dedicate our muse, 

Oh ! blessed happy saint intone 

Our modulations, and infuse 

Our hearts with virtue like thine own. 



Miscellaneous. 219 



TO J. D. SULLIVAN, ESQ. 



Dear friend, as a patriot, soldier, ^ 
I greet thee and honor thy name. 
The love of your country is holier 
Than immortal glory, or fame — 
Por love is the offspring of heaven, 
And next to God's glory alone. 
Our country should always be given 
The dearest affections we own. 

The diamond possessing rare beauty, 
Through matchless brilliancy shown, 
Compares not with patriots' duty, 
When flashes of love make it known. 
Thy heart's treasured wishes inherit 
That pride which led patriots on 
To die for their freedom, and merit 
True immortal glory, each one. 



220 Miscellaneous. 

NO PASSIONS SHOULD AKISE. 



No language of profanity should burst the lips 

of Man. 
Nor vile impetuosity of any creed, or clan; 
Devoid of immorality, in immodesty's disguise, 
We should not break our Maker's law, nor let 

our passions rise. 

Like the raging tide in motion oft wicked men 
contend. 

In strife and disaffection fierce, against a foe, 
or friend. 

And glide along life's stormy sea, forgetful of 
the prize 

Awaiting every honest man, who lets no pas- 
sions rise. 

No passion should assail the mind, or rule the 
soul within, 

The former is temptation, and the latter one, a 
sin — 

Temptation points to evil ways, whilst sin to 
heaven cries 

In angry wand' ring exiles, who let their pas- 
sions rise. 



Miscellaneous. 221 

Observe the course of wisdom then, and strife 

shall be no more, 
The path is strewn with evergreens, and leads 

to virtue's door. 
Where angel sprites, in calm delights, away 

beyond the skies, 
Shall cheer each traveler homeward, who lets 

no passions rise. 



ON THE DEATH OF MY BELOVED 
WIFE, MRS. KATE KAIN BREEN. 



'Tis sad, my beloved one, 'tis sad to my heart — 
'Tis sad to my soul, overburdened with woe, 
To miss those sweet heavenly looks which 

impart 
A sunshine of love throusfh our cares here 

below. 
The sweetness of peace which the blessed 

alone 
In the glory of Grod's deep affection enjoy — 



222 Miscellaneous. 

That sweetness of virtue and peace was thine 

own 
The beauties of heavenly visions thy joy. 

'Loved, dearest child! all their beauties rose 

'round thee, 
The bright star of Heavenly Hope led thee on— 
The sorrows of parting which hung thick 

'round me, 
To thee were new glories thy virtues had won | 
For the world's dark sorrow was left to 

impress 
My sad heart estranged from thy love ever 

more, 
Whilst heavenly angels come 'round to caress 
Thy pure, tender soul with the sweetness they 

bore. 

Oh time ! overburdened with sorrows and woes> 
Why nurse in the heart the delusion of peace 
When mortal surroundings no blessings dis- 
close. 
But God's love immortal when life's throbbings 
cease. 



Miscellaneous. 22^ 

Farewell, my dear child! the deep wells of 

sorrow 
Which flow through my soul shall remind me 

of thee — 
Eeflect in my lone heart the brightness you 

borrow 
From God's holy presence, and oh! comfort 

me. 



MARSHAL M. BENNER. 



Of whom could I 'sing more deser\dng, I know 

not. 
In the depths of my soul I would honor his 

name. 
And twine 'round his memory the wreaths of 

afi'ection 
An immortalized tribute to liis worth and 

fame. 
A soul that is noble and pure lives within him 
And counsels a mind, independent, sublime, 
His majestic bearing, yet mild, gentle manner^ 
Imprints his name on the quicksands of time. 



224 Miscellaneous. 

From modest retirement he reached distinction, 
Eespected alike by old, young, rich and poor, 
His heart like a fountain flows on to the needy 
Whenever their shadows fall over his door. 
No talse, haughty airs ever darken his visage, 
Nor obscure his mind from his youth's inno- 
cence^ 
The greater his fame grows, the milder his 

manner — 
No tongue can upbraid him with any ofiense. 
Stem on, beloved chieftain, through life's ebb- 
ing ocean 
Thy bark shall sail gloriously on to its end 
'Till stranded on the shore of justice and mercy, 
When Grod shall reward thee with blessings, 
my friend. 



TO A FRIEND. 

AN ACROSTIC. 

Hail, youthful friend of cultured fame 
Extolled for logic, wit and lore: 
Nestor-like thy pow'rs proclaim 
Rich mines of knowledge yet in store. 



Miscellaneous. 225 

Your genius, like the golden sunshine 

Prescoing nature with its glow, 

Demonstrates rare thoughts sublime 

Ordained for classic minds to know. 

No youth more favored near the goal 

Of Demosthenean eloquence : 

Yain thoughts or pride yet can't control 

A man of such a noble soul, 

Nor leave it stained with false imprints. 



TO M. W. RYAN, ESQ. 



Hail worthy son of honor'd sires 
Distinguished in the sphere of man, 
I orreet thee with sincere desires 
To sing thy praises, if I can. 

The task is easy, all thy deeds 
Are guilt with love from virtue's ray, 
'Twas love of virtue sowed the seeds 
When thy young heart was blight and gay. 

15 



226 Miscellaneous. 

The years of manhood strengthened all 
Those passions nursed by grace divhie^ 
The world's ways could never enthrall 
A mind so pure, so good, as thine. 

Speed onward, gallant son of fame, 
May all your actions lead you on, 
'Till ages shall your worth proclaim, 
And love you as an honest man. 



THE FLAG OF THE UNION. 



Hail freedom's happy banner of Columbia's 

Of olden shore, 
Distinguished among nations by the muses 

sung with lore. 
Made dear by every virtue that honor could 

commend, 
Thy glor ous stars we love to see, thy stripes 

we shall defend. 



Miscellaneous. 227 

A floating emblem in the air of peace and 

liberty, 
A bold display of union and loyal sincerity, 
Like a standard of perfection thy colors shall 

prove true, 
Whilst millions shall proclaim the praise of 

the Eed, White and Blue. 

Untarnished by dishonor over cities waving 
high. 

The banner of our happy land, for which the 
brave would die. 

The patriots' devotion, and the emblem of true 
fame. 

Lit up with stars of brilliancy emitting free- 
dom's flame. 

Long may this glorious emblem of victory dis- 
play 

Its stars and stripes for ever free from any 
tyrant's sway, 

Th' insignia of our Union through ages let it be 

The banner which shall proudly wave above 
the '' brave and free." 



228 MiSCELLAKEOUS. 

TO THE MEMORY OF OUR FIRST BORN 
ELLEN ELIZABETH BREEN, WHO 
DIED AT THE AOE OF 3 YEARS 
AND 4 MONTHS, MAY 10th, 1873. 



She died ! the rosy tint of life stole gently from 

her brow, 
Her mother's love, her father's smiles no more 

can greet her now; 
Her calm, sweet looks of innocence shone forth 

throngh death's decree, 
As if the heavenly angels wished to win her 

company. 
She died, her eyelids closed in death, her lovely 

face was wan. 
How sweetly beamed her last calm looks before 

life's setting sun, 
Her little heart oppress'd, with weight, sunk 

gradually to rest, 
Her painful motions ebb'd away, she mingled 

with the blest. 

She died, her papa's darling child, her mam- 
ma's loving pet. 

Lay still before our silent gaze, that face can 
we forget? 



Miscellaneous. 229 

No never in this land of tears, whilst God our 

lives shall save, 
In spirit we shall minister around her youthful 

Of rave. 
She died! the angels called her home, her 

place was not on earth. 
The smiles of heavenly graces, which were 

born at her birth, 
She nursed with loving innocence awaiting 

God's command, 
Then sighed upon this world of woes, and 

sought the happy land. 

She died ! her lovely features looked as calm in 
death's repose 

As if the sweets of nature kissed the vernal 
spring's first rose, 

In yonder silent grave she lies to mingle with 
the clay, 

Which hides our darling child from us, and 
from the light of day. 

She died ! she lives to die no more in yon celes- 
tial sphere. 

Where hosts of heavenly angels before their 
God appear, 



230 Miscellaneous. 

Companion of those happy saints look calmly 

clown and see 
The hearts of deep affection which thy parents 

have for thee. 



WHO ELSE COULD I LOVE? 



"Who else could Hove, dearest maiden, but thee, 
Every thouo-ht of my heart is thine own ; 
To thy tender soul I could peacefully flee, 
With an ano-elic thought to dwell there alone. 

In the smile of thy love e'er faithful and true, 
My transit through life would be all but divine, 
Let my hopes lead me on to the altar with you 
And ever enthroned in my soul you'll be mine. 

When love's fondest dreams are entrancing the 

soul 
With ecstasies born of sweetness divine. 
What mortal could once for a moment control 
Their inherent glories, so pure, so sublime. 



Miscellaneous. 231 



A mothee:s eleoy. 



FOE HER BABY BOY. 



Written by request of Mrs. J. O'C. 
He died ! he calmly passed away 

To yon celestial sphere, 
To take the crown that angels wear, 

My little baby dear. 

"^Tis sad to think his little smiles 
Na more can cheer my heart ; 

Oh, baby! lovely baby boy! 
Why did you thus depart? 

A father's burning love was thine, 

For thee he knelt in prayer, 

That God might guard thy future life, 
Erom dangers everywhere. 

But now, alas! like me, he weeps. 
Although our tears are vain, 

Eor little baby's playful smiles 
No more with us remain. 



232 Miscellaneous. 

He died, that little, sweet, calmbrow^ 

Alas ! shall never more 
A mother's burning kisses feel 

Such as it felt before. 

And, oh! that little SAveet laugh which 

Indulged a mother's joy, 
No more in playful sweetness thrills 

Her heart, my darling boy. 

But God that gives and takes away. 
Then may His will be done ; 

In angel bliss for evermore, 
Shall live my baby son. 



DECOEATIOX DAY. 



O'er the graves of the dead where a year's 

silence slept 
The voice of the living respectfully breaks 
In a chorus of love through the sadness which 

wept 



Miscellaneous. 233 

'Round the scene which the sweetness of 

strewn flowers awakes. 
The sorrows and joys of a mind shadowed less 
With sadness arising from sympathy's throne, 
Ever wake in the heart a lone echoe's caress 
For those lost ones we mourn so lonely, alone. 

Sweet garlands of flow'rs over graves long 
neglected. 

Are strewn with affection to honor the dead, 

Whilst musical greetings life's joys have re- 
flected 

Witli the grand intonations its sweetness have 
bred. 

The wild, fierce strife of war has ceased its 
grim rattle— 

The terrors aiising from conflicts are o'er; 

Those sad scenes engraved in each famed field 
of battle 

Are pictures of love we should cherish the 
the more. 

The glories of fame through the nation re- 
sounded 
And swept its dread echoes all over the land ; 



234 Miscellaneous. 

The blue and the gray, like the Romans., 

astoimcled 
The world with power as they fought hand to 

hand 
Those brave, immortal heroes whose death we 

deplore 
In the anguish of love's devotional bliss, 
Shall appear in the annals of fimie ever more 
Though their mounds neglected our greet- 

inofs should miss. 



TO A FRIEND. 



True friendship, the seed of affection, 
Grows only in hearts that are true : 
It fructifies under protection 
Of manhood, John Sinnott, in you. 

A heart ever faithful impresses 
Its imprint of honesty too — 
And here let me say it expresses 
Its grandeur sublimely in you ; 



Miscellaneous. 235 

Por here in tins vale we discover 
That all is not gold which doth shine, 
Yet, dear friend, in true friendship ever 
May friendly friends greet thee and thine. 



THE FRIENDS OF OUR YOUTH. 



Dedicated to my friend and schoolmate, Thos. Hanifan, 
Esq , East St. Louis. 



Dear Thomas, our school da^^s together 

When Spring's merry whisperings of youth, 

Like innocence playing on the heather, 

Were bright with love, sweetness and truth; 

Those days I recall oft at leisure 

And think of the time when we met. 

When the sunshine of peace, joy and pleasure, 

• Shone round us; oh! can we forget. 

The village school yet stands as proud as 

It did twenty years there ago. 
When the master's birch-rod, dearest Thomas, 

Was all that we dreaded, you know ; 



236 Miscellaneous. 

And often influenced by its terrors, 
We learned to drink deep of lore 

To wash out the stains of our errors, 

To save our poor hands from being sore,. 

The stream where we often went fishing — 

The serpentine winding Shannow, 
With golden trout always was blushing — 

I wonder, dear Tom, if 'tis now; 
Its crystallized waters were hallowed 

With banks clothed over with green, 
Whilst clifts here and there overshadowed 

The smiles of its ripplinofs serene. 

The green-mantled meadows we play'd on. 

With bat and ball, eager to goal. 
Were amusements of victories won 

Which anchor their joys to my soul ; 
Their memories shall cling to me ever. 

Dear Thomas, though tyrants there sway. 
For the adories of Erin shine over 

My life till it passes away. 



Miscellaneous. 237 



XINES WRITTEN IMPROMPTU AFTER 
READING OVER A LADY'S ALBUM. 



A lady's album oft reflects 

The minds of those who write, 
Their names therein, to show how men 



Purline its virsfin white. 



The minds of some reflected thus 

Look triv'al, light and vain. 
Ambition sees false hopes in these, 

In those an empty brain. 

A dashinof, swao-o^'rinof hand looks well, 
When viewed without inspection ; 

But then the eye shall vainly try 
To see therein, perfection. 

Some vain attempts to court the muse — 
Some witty phrases borrowed 

Among its leaves, like beaten sheaves, 
Appear displaced and narrow'd. 



238 Miscellaneous. 

Some crumped-up lines disordecl run 

Through many of its pages, 
And represent the miser's stent 
Throuo'h all his wretched staofes. 

A flourish here and there proclaims 
Some " swell" with the high collar. 

Who looks as if his neck was stiff 
And never owned a dollar. 

A bold, plain hand, shows free command^ 

A man without flirtation ; 
An able mind, respectful, kind — 

A man of education. 

Its pages are an index of 

The vanities of the sex ; 
Its writings here and there appear 

A rumbling human vortex. 



MSCELLANEOUS. 239 



THE MAIDEN'S FIRST WHISPERINGS 
OF LOVE. 



The innocence glowing 'round the youth of 
life's morn 

Had veiled from the heart all the bliss of its- 
noon, 

When love's happy treasures like rare bril- 
liants worn, 

Are kissed by the soft, golden beams of the 
moon. 

The ecstasies felt in the mind calmly hallow 

The peace which sweet angelic whisp'rings 
impart ; 

When nature drinks deep of the virtues that 
borrow 

The joys shining over the pure, tender heart. 

The flow'rs softly blushing when summer's sun 

smiles on 
Their fragrant perfections, so sweet to behold. 
Are nature's gems wedded to modesty won 
From beauties as bright as the hues they unfold. 



240 Miscellaneous. 

Thus o^low'no' with the first smiles of love 

beaming over 
The brow of the lovely young maiden, she 

seems 
Like a fairy enthroned in the bow'r of a lover, 
When all his bright glories are pictured in 

dreams. 

'Tis thus that the maiden entranced by the rap- 
tures 
Of love stealing over her innocent soul, 
Finds life an ethereal bliss which she captures 
From thoughts fast arising she cannot control. 
Its sweetness awakens new glories unknown, 
Like joys overllow'ng from God's fountain 

above ; 
She breathes but the peace of its influence 

alone — 
It is the young maiden's first whisp'rings of love. 







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